Escaping the town with its dust and din,
A wayfarer was asked to come within
A lovely home on a mountain height,
To rest awhile and be sated with sight
Of the beauties within and glories without,
That ever encircle far-famed Lookout.
From city to summit the walk was far,
But gliding along in the trolley car,
Forsaking the valley and climbing the side,
The city was distanced in a two-fold stride;
Its smoke rolled beneath, its din died away,
With toilers’ tramp at the closing day.
[Illustration: Part of Chattanooga and Lookout Mountain.]
This home was “La Brisa;” for pure mountain air
Played around its sides and its frontage fair,
Uplifting yet higher the travel-worn guest,
As he feasted to the full, and enjoyed sweet rest;
While music came forth and fellowship flowed—
With lofty delights the company glowed.
The low-lying city became all ablaze
With myriad lights and their countless rays,
The moon and the stars were reigning above,
While far-twinkling lights threw kisses of love
To wayfarer and friends, caught up between
The city of light and the heavens serene.
Ah, ’tis mountain top views that enrich the dull earth,
Where high hopes and deeds have divinest birth;
Where Abram and Moses and prophets of old
The evil and good, yea the best foretold.
And men even now must mount the high hills
To inspire them beneath with conquering wills.
Here the church up-rose and “the old ship of State,”
Here angels meet men that listen and wait;
The King from his throne will deign to come down
To acclaim his own, and with glory crown
The soul sincere, who cries from his heart
For some new song—some high born art.
At last the dust and the din of earth’s way
Will shine in rapture of our toiling day;
The narrow path trod, the rugged way too,
Will glow with a beauty we never knew,
In the coming new Morn on the Mountain fair,
Translated with Christ in his glorified air.