Blessed are the Pure in Heart.
My love sat on a high, high hill,
No other hill was near,
The air seemed woven of happy thoughts,
It was so heavenly clear.
My love saw purple plains outspread
Beneath the twilight sky,
She felt the heart within her swell,
She could not tell me why.
She said the world seemed very lone,
The stars so distant hung,
As if God had forgotten them
— My love is very young. —
She thought the silence spoke to her
A message from long years,
It was not sad, and yet her eyes
Filled suddenly with tears.
She said she thought our lives were linked
To some great life unseen,
And that it would reveal itself
To those whose hearts were clean.
She leaned her head against my breast,
As flowers lean to the air,
I felt her spirit mount and mount,
And down that crystal stair
A conscious Presence seemed to pass,
And as we sat, heart-still,
God came and spoke with us a while
Upon that high, high hill.
Agnes L. Storrie. Poems, J. W. Kettlewell, Sydney, 1909, pages 160-161