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Show OVER THE HILLS. P (By Arthur W. Copp.) There is a place that I know well, Over the hills, over the hills; Where age-untouched lovers dwell 'Mid briar-rose and daffodils; L Where flower-scented gardens fills r Their days with peace; where 'anthems swell From song-birds' throats in God's "all's well;" Over the hills, over the hills. Back to the dim sweet childhood days, Over the hills, over tire bills, Our wearied souls with yef ling gaze Deep) in their freshness, drink their fills Of memories of rocks, of rills, Frost-painted woods; till through the haze Of years there comes all childhood's maze; Over the hills, over the hills. From, out the east comes forth the light, Over the hills, over the hills; The glory of the day drives night, And all the world with sunshine fills. Then come the shades Jehovah wills To lull our pain, with dreams bedight; The Star of Bethlehem shone bright, Over the hills, over the hills. r |