1 High o'er the hills the mountains rise,
Their summits tower toward the skies;
But far above them I must dwell,
Or sink beneath the flames of hell.
2 Oh, God! forbid that I should fall
And lose my everlasting all;
But may I rise on wings of love,
And soar to the blest world above.
3 Although I walk the mountains high,
Ere long my body low must lie,
And in some lonesome place must rot,
And by the living be forgot.
4 There it must lie till that great day,
When Gabriel's awful trump shall say,
Arise, the judgment day is come,
When all must hear their final doom.
5 If not prepared, then I must go
Down to eternal pain and woe,
With devils there I must remain,
And never more return again.
6 But if prepared, Oh, blessed thought!
I'll rise above the mountain's top,
And there remain for evermore
On Canaan's peaceful, happy shore.
7 Oh! when I think of that blest world,
Where all God's people dwell in love,
I oft times long with them to be
And dwell in heaven eternally.
8 Then will I sing God's praises there,
Who brought me through my troubles here
I'll sing, and be forever blest,
Find sweet and everlasting rest.
The Southern Harmony, 1835