SAINT COLUMBA’S SONG OF TRUST.
I TREAD the mountain passes through the gloom
Alone, save that Thy Presence can illume,
Sun of my soul! these rough ways of the night,
And turn the fearsome darkness into light.
Should that day dawn—the last that I should see—
No mightiest aid could save from Thy decree:
No valley fastness or embattled hill
Sure ward could keep against Thy sovereign will.
Man! if thou art not God’s, e’en at His shrine.
Or in some vale of rest, death may be thine;
If thou art God’s, thou can’st not be death’s prey
E’en in the front and fury of the fray.
What is our life? It is our Father’s will,
Or brief or long, of seeming good or ill;
Who risk may save, who guard may cast away;
The proudest front not fate with ‘yea’ or ‘nay’
Ah, living God! who worketh ill or wrong
Treadeth a path that haunting terrors throng;
The hopes his bosom fondles waste in air.
And o’er his future broods eterne despair.
No magic mirror may mine end foretell.
No bird in bush sing fortune’s oracle;
In Thee alone, my Father, I will trust,
God, evermore the Faithful and the Just.
O Christ, the Son, my Druid, King Divine
Yet human, born of Mary, Abbot mine—
O Father and blest Spirit, One-in-Three,
My lands, my Order I entrust to Thee. Amen.