'Mid the silence of the mountains,
When the dawn unlocks the day,
And the mist's white, curling fountains
Up their sides fantastic play;
There our Father walks beside us,
Leading up Love's towering heights;
Through His vision we are gazing
On the morn that spirit lights.
When the evening shadows hover
O'er the river's restless flow;
When the silvering moonbeams cover
Earth with all their softening glow;
Then His presence fills the gloaming
With the vesper-song of love,
And from o'er the waters foaming,
See, with olive-branch, the dove.
His firm hand is always leading
From the cloud of midnight fear,
Weary dreamers crushed and bleeding,
Into Truth's bright morning clear.
Always—oh, the blest forever!—
Dwells the Father with His own;
And on height nor depth can sever
Us from Love divinely known.
