Mountain and Valley - Friedrich Adolf Krummacher

On Alpine heights the love of God is shed;
    He paints the morning red,
    The flowerets white and blue,
    And feeds them with his dew.
On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

On Alpine heights, o’er many a fragrant heath,
    The loveliest breezes breathe;
    So free and pure the air,
    His breath seems floating there.
On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

On Alpine heights, beneath his mild blue eye,
    Still vales and meadows lie;
    The soaring glacier’s ice
    Gleams like a Paradise.
On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

Down Alpine heights the silvery streamlets flow;
    There the bold chamois go;
    On giddy crags they stand,
    And drink from his own hand.
On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

On Alpine heights, in troops all white as snow,
    The sheep and wild goats go;
    There, in the solitude,
    He fills their hearts with food.
On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

On Alpine heights the herdsman tends his herd;
    His shepherd is the Lord;
    For he who feeds the sheep
    Will sure his offspring keep.
On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

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Friedrich Adolf Krummacher (1767 – 1845) Germany
Translated by C. T. Brooks