In the night <br />Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys, <br />And the peaks looked toward God alone. <br />'O Master that movest the wind with a finger, <br />Humble, idle, futile peaks are we. <br />Grant that we may run swiftly across the world <br />To huddle in worship at Thy feet.' <br /> <br />In the morning <br />A noise of men at work came the clear blue miles, <br />And the little black cities were apparent. <br />'O Master that knowest the meaning of raindrops, <br />Humble, idle, futile peaks are we. <br />Give voice to us, we pray, O Lord, <br />That we may sing Thy goodness to the sun.' <br /> <br />In the evening <br />The far valleys were sprinkled with tiny lights. <br />'O Master, <br />Thou that knowest the value of kings and birds, <br />Thou hast made us humble, idle futile peaks. <br />Thou only needest eternal patience; <br />We bow to Thy wisdom, O Lord - <br />Humble, idle, futile peaks.' <br /> <br />In the night <br />Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys, <br />And the peaks looked toward God alone.<br /><br />Stephen Crane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-peaks/
