He Set The Trumpet To His Lips, And Lo! The Clash Of Waves, The Roar Of Winds That Blow, The Strife And Stress Of Nature'S Warring Things, Rose Like A Storm-Cloud, Upon Angry Wings. He Set The Reed-Pipe To His Lips, And Lo! The Wreck Of Landscape Took A Rosy Glow, And Life, And Love, And Gladness That Love Brings Laughed In The Music, Like A Child That Sings. Master Of Each, Arch-Master! We That Still Wait In The Verge And Outskirt Of The Hill Look Upward Lonely--Lonely To The Height Where Thou Has Climbed, For Ever, Out Of Sight!