The Hills of God

GERTRUDE RING HOMANS

A child in the valley village,
I gazed with rapture awed
On the mountains' crown near the little town,
And fancied they brought some blessing down
To those below who must toil and plod,
So I called them the hills of God.

And moon-blessed nights from my window
I viewed, o'er meadows broad,
The summits agleam in the silver stream,
And always to me it would surely seem
That angels walked there, glory shod,
In the light on the hills of God.

How oft in the vale of error,
When the senses would defraud,
Must we lift our thought, ere success be wrought,
To the spiritual heights where is ever caught,
Through inward eye, a space that is trod
By the hosts on the hills of God.