Ascending, ridge by ridge, Mount Pisgah’s slopes,
Now lost, now in full view,
His figure, shrinking as he higher climbed,
At last so slender grew.
Ten thousand eyes, from Israel’s camp below
Broke off their straining gaze,
As Pisgah’s higher peaks, circled in clouds,
Clasped Moses in their haze.
The crowd below forgotten, now one thing
Consumed the old man’s thought:
This last encounter with the God he’d served,
Whose presence he had sought,
And dared to come so near that he had learned
To know God as a friend.
This thought his tired steps kept urging on
To his life-journey’s end.
There, God and Moses view the glorious land
He so desires to know,
On which he yearns to set his aged feet.
He feels the thrill, the glow,
Which comes to men of faith who know God’s plan
His purpose understand.
With dreaming comes deep sleep; a quiet grave.
God’s own Almighty hand
Lays him to rest He counted as a friend,
To peacefully wait the day
When he, with all God’s sleeping saints, shall rise
And know God’s land for aye.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One