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I
went to the woods because
I
wished to live deliberately,
to
front only the essential facts of life
and
see if I could not learn
what
it had to teach,
and
not, when I came to die,
discover
that I had not lived.
Thoreau
Oh Great Spirit!
Whose voice I hear in the winds,
And whose breath gives life to all the world.
Hear me! I am small and weak.
I need your strength and wisdom.
Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes
ever behold the purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have
made, and my ears sharp to hear your voice.
Make me wise so that I may understand the
things you taught my people.
Let me learn the lessons you have hidden
in every leaf and rock.
I seek strength, not to be greater than my
brother, but to fight my greatest enemy –
myself.
Make me always ready to come to you
with clean hands and straight eyes.
So that when life fades, as the fading sunset,
my spirit may come to you without shame.
A Native American prayer
Appalachian Trail
Trails
are not dust and pebbles
on
a hill,
nor
even
grass
and wild birds by a lake.
Trails
are adventure and a hand to
still
the restless pulse of life
that
men would break their minds
with
the weight of thinking
Trails
are peace
A
call to dreams
A
challenge to ascent
Trails
are the brisk unfolding
of
release
from
bitterness and from discouragement
Trails
are the random writing on
the
wall
that
tell us how every man
grown
tired of heart
of
things correct and ordered
comes
to scrawl his happy
hour
down
then,
goes home
to
start life over with
eagerness
and zest
Who
builds the trail funds labours
that
is rest.
Benton MacKaye
The Birthright of Children
All children should know the joy of playing
in healthful mud, of paddling in clean water, of hearing birds sing praises to
God for the new day.
They should have the vision of pure skies enriched at dawn and sunset with
unspeakable glory; of dew-drenched mornings flashing with priceless gems; of the
vast night sky all throbbing and panting with stars.
They should live with the flowers and butterflies, with the wild things that
have made possible the world of fables.
They should experience the thrill of going barefoot, of being out in the rain;
of riding a white birch, of sliding down pine boughs, of climbing ledges and
tall trees, of diving headfirst into a transparent pool.
They ought to know the smell of wet earth, of new mown hay, of sweet fern, mint
and fir; of the breath of cattle and of fog blown inland from the sea.
They should hear the answer the trees make to the rain and the wind; the sound
of rippling and falling water; the muffled roar of the sea in storm.
They should have the chance to catch fish, to ride on a load of hay, to camp
out, to cook over an open fire, tramp through new country, and sleep under the
open sky.
They should have the fun of driving a horse, paddling a canoe; sailing a boat¼
Henry Turner Bailey
Hymn
1.
Look down, O Father, on our native land,
Wild, untamed forests, wastes of burning sand.
Koppies that rear their lofty heads on high,
Rivers that wait for storms that pass them by.
2.
Give us the breadth of vision like our plains,
Where the deep silence of Your presence reigns.
And, with the vision, give us strength to fight,
Through all our darkness upward to Your light.
3.
Teach us the peace that lives in krantz and vlei,
That to our comrades passing on their way,
We may give comfort, solace, rest and power
To win from You joy in the passing hour.
4.
Teach us the silent sternness of this land,
Which loves, but loving does not spare its hand.
But breaks us harshly, till our spirits kneel,
Feeling Your love through all our woe or weal.
5.
Then in Your love keep free from every harm,
Dwellers in village, town or lonely farm:
May we Your image in our neighbour see,
From all race feeling keep us calm and free.
6.
Strong in Your strength, and loving, tender, true,
Lifting the loads of many or of few.
In this great country, by Your grace, may we
Guides and light bringers to our brethren be.
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