The Mountaineer 
III 
Thy lakes, thy flower-strewn gardens, all lead to fields of snow, 
Lead up until we listen for star-led singing choir. 
We pause on pendent glacier, a river's frozen flow, 
Or climb on rigid lava, on hardened ancient fire. 
Ah, transcendent glow 
On ice, on ancient fire! 
Who would dare to measure 
Our mountain’s lavish treasure, 
When fingers, giant fingers, ave point us higher, higher 2 
WA 
Attained at last thy summit, thy crown above the cloud; 
We stand in awe; 
Thy altar’s law 
Condemns the soul that will not still, 
With spirit bowed, 
However proud, 
And let God’s glory every trembling fibre thrill. 
EDMOND S. MEANY. 
Written on Mt. Adams outing at camp 
