HILLS.
The chief things of the ancient mountains, and for the precious things of the lasting hills.—Deuteronomy, xxxiii. 15.
The hills melted like wax at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the Lord of the whole earth.—Psalm xcvii. 5.
For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee.—Isaiah, liv. 10.
Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills, cover us.—Luke, xxiii. 30.
Oh! my heart panteth to be far away,
Amid the hills—the everlasting hills;
For in my dreams last night a thousand rills
And mountain torrents held resistless sway
O’er my hush’d spirit; and the silent play
Of golden lights and gleamy shadowings
Chequer’d my veiled eyes, like seraphs’ wings,
That fan the crimson light of fading day.
I woke: the hum of traffic, and the din
Of mercenary crowds, fill’d the calm air:
I heard the voice of mendicant despair
Echo the hollow laugh of reckless sin;
And love was not, nor peace. Oh! let me win
The hills, the eternal hills—for peace dwells there!
R. F. Housman.
Oh! ye time-honoured hills,
The ancient, the immortal is it not
A high-born privilege ne’er to be forgot,
To feel none of earth’s ills?
Sublime are ye as heaven!
Though bleak, not barren; silent, yet not dumb,
From outgone shadows health and music come,
And thronging thoughts are given!
Not worthless is your aim,
To stand from age to age, from hour to hour,
The Almighty’s temple, token of his power,
And record of His name.
W. Anderson.
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God!
Thou hast made the children mighty,
By the touch of the mountain sod.
Thou hast fix’d our arch of refuge
Where the spoilers foot ne’er trod;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God.
We are watchers of a beacon
Whose lights must never die;
We are guardians of an altar
’Midst the silence of the sky;
The rocks yield founts of courage,
Struck forth as by thy rod;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God.
For the dark resounding heavens,
Where thy still small voice is heard,
For the strong pines of the forests,
That by thy breath are stirr’d;
For the storms on whose free pinions
Thy spirit walks abroad;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God.
The royal eagle darteth
On his quarry from the heights,
And the stag that knows no master
Seeks there his wild delights;
But we for thy communion
Have sought the mountain sod;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God!
Mrs. Hemans.
Look up, my soul, toward the eternal hills;
Those heavens are fairer than they seem,
There pleasures all sincere glide in its crystal rills,
There not a dreg of guilt defiles,
Nor guilt disturbs the stream:
There is no cursed soil, no tainted spring,
No roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting.
Watts.