If you’re traveling through the mountains
With their snow-capped peaks of white
Towering high and gleaming brightly
With a million beams of light,
Can you tell just how they came there
With the valleys in between?
And just why the peaks are snow-clad
And the valleys rich in green?
‘Tis the handiwork of God.
Yes, the flowers, the trees, the mountains,
All bespeak God’s love and power,
And the heavens in all their splendor
Breathe His glory, hour by hour,
May our hearts be ever grateful
To the One Who made them all
And our ears be ever open
To fits tender, loving call.