Poetry

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The Hills Grow Dim


When I look to the hills
Amidst the morning haze
The antelope and deer still graze
While hawks circle the field
Lurking prey remains concealed
In the distance the call of the owl
A solitary coyote’s lonely howl
A cougar still on the prowl
Misses the hiding prairie fowl
In the grasses, sage and brush
Hidden and not willing to flush
Aromas of wild flowers and red clover
Riding the breeze wafts gently over
As the morning mist gives way
To the coming summer day
Soon the sun will be ablaze
Casting long warm golden rays
Painting valleys with shades of shadows
Where the winding stream gently follows

I look to the hills
And see His strength so great
Knowing He is never too late
Help comes swift like eagles wings
Love, joy, peace, He always brings
Filling my heart with a living spring
How I desire to see my King
Enveloping me in His mercy and grace
Someday I know I will see His face
He alone will with me walk
He sets me on the solid Rock
Taking me through trials of fire
Dependence on Him is required
Leading, His example does inspire
Only Him does my heart desire
Promises made we know for sure
Heaven awaits those made holy and pure
Forgiven by Him of all sin
He is waiting to say to each, Come in.

I look to Him
The hills grow dim
My Savior has called to me
I give Him praise on bended knee
For I know He has set me free
It is Jesus I long to see




© 5/18/2008

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