THE PRIZE

STELLA E. SAXTON.

I know it waits for me,Exquisite thing;High, high I climb,My steps ne'er faltering,So dear the prize,Hid in a crevice there,A pale, soft star,Dropped from the Alpine skies—Fair bloom of edelweiss!

I know it waits for me,A cherished thing;High I must climb,Nor heed the buffeting,So dear the prize!To hear the words, "Well done,Thou faithful one!"To know the joy that liesIn heavenly harmonies!

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