The Hills Are Alive Poem by Michael P. Johnson

The hills are alive in Jesus’ hand
Thriving valleys that understand
God’s creation! Their lives they give
Praising Christ, through whom they live


Praise is heard in a summer breeze
Offered by leaves on rustling trees
Skylark and sparrow join in song
Hear! God’s children all year long


The sun will rise vanquishing haze
The tallest mountains bring forth praise
A babbling brook gurgles in prayer
Listen God’s children all said there


Fox cubs yapping chasing their tails
Red deer frolic deep in the vales
Ripe corn dancing in waves of gold
See God’s children His hand handwork unfold


Trees become naked waiting the snow
Stags in the distance calling the doe
Christ creator of this fair land
Marvel God’s children at Jesus’ hand


Grass white with frost snow on the peak
Rabbits seek cover great eagles shriek
Squirrels seek nuts to store in trees
Wonder God’s children at sight as these


Sheep in the hills birthing their lambs
Beavers busy repairing dams
All were created with loving care
Through the love of Christ to share…….