Volume 2 — THE ROUND OF THE WATERS. BY ROBT. W. WEIR
Reading edition
"All thy works praise thee, O Lord." Up, up on the mountains, high up near the sky. Where the earth gathers moisture from clouds passing by; Where the first drops of rain patter down full of glee, As they join hand in hand on their way to the sea; There the rills, like young children, go prattling along. Full of life, full of joy, full of motion and song; And, swelling the brooks, with glad voices they raise, To him who made all things, their tribute of praise. Then, as they dance onward, half hidden in spray, Like bands of young nymphs dress'd in bridal array, With shouts of wild laughter they leap the deep linn. Where the broad flowing river at once takes them in. Now calm their rude mirth as they matronly glide, Bearing onward rich freight to the blue briny tide. Where the mist of the mountains once more joins the sea With its incense, O Lord, ever heaving to thee.
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