I lift my eyes to the hills up so high,
Across meadows to mountains and the blue sky.
I can ask, “Oh where does my help come from?”
From the Lord, my Creator, so great and so strong.
He fashioned the land and oceans and trees.
He whispers to rivers and dances with the breeze.
He put the sun and the moon in their places,
And carved out the stars with incredible graces.
When trouble comes knocking and makes me feel small,
I look up to the hills and to my Lord over all.
He never grows weary. He never goes to sleep.
He guides my footsteps, and my soul, he will keep.
Whenever I am worried or feel lost in the night,
I’ll climb in my spirit to the mountaintop heights.
For high up in the hills, I will remember again,
Help comes from the Lord, my maker and friend.
