The Christ of the Andes

Far, far the mountain-peak from meWhere lone he stands, with look caressing;Yet from the valley, wistfullyI lift my dreaming eyes, and seeHis hand stretched forth in blessing.

Never bird sings nor blossom blowsUpon that summit chill and breathless,Where throned he waits amid the snows;But from his presence wide outflowsLove that is warm and deathless!

O Symbol of the great releaseFrom war and strife!—unfailing fountainTo which we turn for joy's increase,Fain would we climb to heights of Peace—Thy peace upon the mountain!