O God Beyond The Evening Hills
O God beyond the evening hills
That stretch on toward the sky,
Thou paintest out the lakes and rills
With purest paint and dye.
Thou writest out Thy wondrous love
As flow’rs unfold at morn,
And fold the clouds in bliss above
When close the flowering thorn.
O Artist, paint each day anew
A masterpiece of love,
So broad, so bright with morning dew,
And set with peace above.
Moreo’er, paint all our hearts aglow
With Thy resplendent joy,
So that the whole world surely knows
Thy peace none can destroy.