O’er the hills and meads and vales;
On the bank, across the dales,
Where the flocks and herds are seen
Nibbling at the blades of green;
By the hillside, down the plain,
Welcome Spring is seen again.
Cheery sunshine follows showers;
Tiny buds and opening flowers
Dot the shrubs and grace the trees,
Smiling as old Winter flees;
Warbling songsters bid him go
To his house of ice and snow;
Busy insects’ ceaseless hum
Tell of joyous days to come;
While from many a hidden bed
Pretty violets raise their head;
And the pale primroses’ face
Many a warm plantation grace.
Cowslips with their cups of gold
Diamond dew-drops gladly hold;
Daffodil and crocus, too,
Cotters’ little gardens strew;
Buttercups in yellow dress
Round about the daisies press;
Little children clap their hands
As they wander forth in bands
To enjoy the sunny hours,
Reveling among the flowers,
Mid the hills, and mid the vales,
One glad note of praise prevails.
Budding hedgerows, flowers, and trees,
Raise their voice upon the breeze.
While the river and the stream
Catch and join the wondrous theme;
Countless songsters help to raise
To the Lord a song of praise.
In the mountain, hill, and plain,
In the sunshine, in the rain,
In the tree, and in the flower,
There I read a God of power:
But in Jesus from above
There I read a God of love.
Further still, at Calvary’s tree
There I read His love to me.