OCR Text |
Show 200 For tbe dark resounding caverns Where thy still small voice is heard; For the strong pines of the forests That by thy breath have stirred; 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, O'er 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. The banner of the chieftan, Far, far below us waves: The war-horse of the spearman Cannot reach our lofty caves. Thy dark clouds wrap the threshhold Of freedom's last abode. For the strength of tbe hills we bless Thee, Our God, our fathers' God. |