Poems (Coolidge)/The Hills

by Helen Elizabeth Coolidge

THE HILLS

The hills whose strength, dear Lord, is Thine;
 By solemn silence praises yield;
Unmoved as they, each Christmas heart,
 To whom thy love hath been revealed.

"The hills from whence my help shall come:"
 That blessèd balm to heal each pain:
In holy hush the reverent soul
 May softly breathe this sweet refrain.

The hills the Holy City guard;
 As sentinels, unfailing, stand;
Thy love thy chosen ones doth keep
 Within the hollow of thy hand.

The hills! the mountain-top for thee
 A temple wast, where, free from strife,
In prayer thou didst the Father seek,
 And gathered strength for daily life.

So, to the hills, with earnest gaze,
 I ever turn in wordless prayer;
Thou leavest not in valley dim,
 The soul who trusts thy promised care.