Lyra Pastoralis | ||
O ye Mountains and Hills, bless ye the Lord; praise Him and magnify Him for ever.
Ye Hills and Mountains, lift His praise,
To your high calling be ye true:
Let your pure summits pierce the blue,
And catch His earliest morning rays;
And with a lingering glory blaze
When earth puts on her twilight hue:
Ye Hills and Mountains, lift His praise,
To your high calling be ye true.
To your high calling be ye true:
Let your pure summits pierce the blue,
And catch His earliest morning rays;
And with a lingering glory blaze
When earth puts on her twilight hue:
Ye Hills and Mountains, lift His praise,
To your high calling be ye true.
Along your silent upland ways
His holy feet have brushed the dew,
When hiding out of human view
He sought lone nights for busy days:
Ye Hills and Mountains, lift His praise,
To your high calling be ye true.
His holy feet have brushed the dew,
When hiding out of human view
He sought lone nights for busy days:
Ye Hills and Mountains, lift His praise,
To your high calling be ye true.
Lyra Pastoralis | ||