The Beautiful Hills

The view from Mt. Panther in the Adirondacks

I talked last night to a dear friend who is 83 years old. She is quite frail and spends most of her time sitting at her window looking up at the view of the beautiful hills in the distance. Although it was only 7:30, she was on her way to bed. Her voice gets very grainy and almost inaudible in the evening when she gets tired. She truly sounded exhausted even though she was happy to hear from me. In our convesation she told me that she didn't want to live much longer. It wasn't the first time that I heard her say this in the last two months. She really is ready to go to sleep one final time and it was sad to realize that the time is closer than I had hoped.

I think of my friend many times each day, looking up at the hills--the one thing that gives her tremendous peace. I pray that God will give her the rest she desires and the peace that she longs for when she looks up at the hills.

Oh the beautiful hills where the saints shall rest
When the Lord has made all things new;
Where we shall forget in the smiles of God
The trials we have journeyed through.
We have seen those hills in their brightness rise
By the eye of faith below;
And felt the thrill of immortal eyes
In the night of our darkest woe.

We dream of rest on the beautiful hills
Where the trav'ler shall thirst no more;
And we hear the hum of a thousand rills
That wander the green glens o'er.
We'll grasp the hands of the martyred ones,
Who have braved the world's rude strife,
And shout with them o'er the victory gained,
And the crown of immortal life.

Our arms are weak but we would not fling
To our feet this load of ours;
The winds of spring to the valleys sing
And the turf replies with flowers.
And thus we learn on our wintry way
That our Father rules as He wills;
And the breath of God on our souls will play
Til we reach those radiant hills.

Then sing of the beautiful hills
That rise from the evergreen shores;
Then sing of the beautiful hills
Where the weary shall toil no more.
(The Beautiful Hills by James G. Clark.
In Hymns and Tunes, 1888)