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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386722" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Valley Of Baca</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">PSALM LXXXIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A brackish lake is there with bitter pools<br>Anigh its margin, brushed by heavy trees.<br>A piping wind the narrow valley cools,<br>Fretting the willows and the cypresses.<br>Gray skies above, and in the gloomy space<br>An awful presence hath its dwelling-place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw a youth pass down that vale of tears;<br>His head was circled with a crown of thorn,<br>His form was bowed as by the weight of years,<br>His wayworn feet by stones were cut and torn.<br>His eyes were such as have beheld the sword<br>Of terror of the angel of the Lord.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He passed, and clouds and shadows and thick haze<br>Fell and encompassed him. I might not see<br>What hand upheld him in those dismal ways,<br>Wherethrough he staggered with his misery.<br>The creeping mists that trooped and spread around,<br>The smitten head and writhing form enwound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then slow and gradual but sure they rose,<br>Those clinging vapors blotting out the sky.<br>The youth had fallen not, his viewless foes<br>Discomfited, had left the victory<br>Unto the heart that fainted not nor failed,<br>But from the hill-tops its salvation hailed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I looked at him in dread lest I should see,<br>The anguish of the struggle in his eyes;<br>And lo, great peace was there! Triumphantly<br>The sunshine crowned him from the sacred skies.<br>'From strength to strength he goes,' he leaves beneath<br>The valley of the shadow and of death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Thrice blest who passing through that vale of Tears,<br>Makes it a well,'-and draws life-nourishment<br>From those death-bitter drops. No grief, no fears<br>Assail him further, he may scorn the event.<br>For naught hath power to swerve the steadfast soul<br>Within that valley broken and made whole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emma+Lazarus">Emma Lazarus</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386722" data-title="The Valley Of Baca de Emma Lazarus" data-description="PSALM LXXXIV.

A brackish lake is there with bitter pools
Anigh its margin, brushed by heavy trees.
A piping wind the narrow valley cools,
Fretting the willows and the cypresses.
Gray skies above, and in the gloomy space
An awful presence hath its..."></div>
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