God of the Hills and Valleys;
God of the brooks and the springs,
Fresh'ning us all with the blessing
Thy grace ever freely brings.
How else could we bear the testing
While crossing the blist'ring sand?
How lift the head after scorching
But for Thy upholding hand?
Thou art the God of Thy people,
How near are they to Thy heart;
Caring for them in the pressure -
Of valley experience a part.
There, they have Thee, gracious Shepherd,
In darkest shadow not 'lone -
Borne, all by Thee, was death's substance -
Comfort is their's 'till they're home.
God of the Hills and the Valleys,
Thy saints are all in Thy hand;
No foe over Thee can triumph,
Not one before Thee can stand.
Thou givest Thine own the vict'ry,
The enemies all laid low;
Thy saints give Thee all the glory,
Ever Thy praises shall flow.