OVER THE HILL by M. C. Penniman

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jan 2, 1901

OVER THE HILL.

By M. C. Penniman

[M. C. Penniman, in Christian Work.]

“WHERE are you going, little maid, On the road to the busy town, With your eyes as blue as gentian flowers, And your curly hair so brown?”

“I climb the long, long hill, kind sir, To the town on the other side; And there I busily work all day, And return at the eventide.”

“And is it not a long, hard way For so small a girl to go?” “Yes, but the skies are bright above, And I love the flowers so.”

“But the flowers can not always bloom, Nor the sky be always bright; Sometime the frost will nip the buds, And soon it will be night.”

“O, yes; but then at night, you know, The quiet stars do shine, And I think they are the angels’ eyes, That look down into mine!”

“But surely there are many nights When the way is long and dim.” “I know, but God’s behind the clouds, And so I trust in Him.”