There is an Air of Majesty.

There is an air of majesty, A bearing dignified and free, About the mountain peaks; Each crag of weather-beaten stone Presents a grandeur of its own To him who seeks. There is a proud, defiant mein, Expressive, stern, and yet serene, About the precipice; Whose rugged form looks grimly down, And answers, with an austere frown The sunlight's kiss. The mountain, with the snow bank crowned; The gorge, abysmal and profound; Impress with aspect grand: With unfeigned reverence I see In canon and declivity The All-Wise Hand.