I lift up my eyes to the mountains,
From where shall come my help.
Now I dreamt I was climbing rugged and befogged mountains.
It was high, my head for heights is weak, I was tempted to whelp.

But in my dream I saw Christ climbing ahead of me.
He was my guide, without Him I could not safely proceed.
But strangely under His shadow I could see.
He seemed to be a shining guiding light in my need.

It happened that in the dream, I reached the summit.
Now I stood alone yet in His sight.
I had no right to be at His side, but my way had been lit.
His raiment had been multicoloured blinding bright.

The country I saw from that summit was more beautiful than any I had ever seen.
And my sight that had been failing was intensely keen.