_The Oak On The Mountain'S Summit_

Oh, mountain monarch, at whose feet I stand,-- Clouds to adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand,-- Nature divine, in harmony profound, With peaceful presence hath begirt thee round.

And thou, majestic oak, from yon high place Guard'st thou the earth, asleep in night's embrace,-- And from thy lofty summit, pouring down Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown?

Whate'er thy mission, mountain sentinel, To my lone heart thou art a power and spell; A lesson grave, of life, that teacheth me To love the Hebrew figure of a tree.

Faithful and patient be my life as thine; As strong to wrestle with the storms of time; As deeply rooted in a soil of love; As grandly rising to the heavens above.