The vast immortal river flows,
Unchallenged through the halls,
That it has carved since time began
Creating ancient walls.
And through the space that’s left between
The canyon walls on high,
Cascading waters catch the light
Of brilliant summer sky.
A boat skims lightly at the point
Of fading rippled vees,
In passing, having less effect
Than cooling evening breeze.
The oars press firmly, slow and sure,
The oarsman deep in dreaming,
The oars repeat from fore to aft,
Then surface clean and gleaming.
From the shore the mountain peaks
It seems rise up forever,
As though the fleecy clouds above,
Their summits would dissever.
These slopes have weathered centuries,
And might forever stand,
But time like love will conquer all,
So some will turn to stand.
And from this sand a seed will sprout,
And from this sprout a flower,
So life anew will spring from death,
For this is nature’s power.
This power brings the mountains life.
Its source provides our hope.
It brings the peaks to river side
In gradual sandy slope.
And the river, flowing onward,
Ever onward to the sea,
Testifies to natures power
And God’s awesome majesty.