Beach or mountains? Which do you prefer? Why?
Personal bliss is time spent with the Mountain.
O beautiful for spacious skies
I choose the Mountain, and the Mountain chooses me. On my back at the peek, my mind floats my body freely to the sky.
For amber waves of grain
Quilted crop patterns below, proof of life, sustenance, before and after my quiet time.
For purple mountain majesties
An old hymn guides my heart to praise, On Christ, “The Solid Rock” I stand. All other ground is sinking sand. (Matt 7:24-27) (Mote, Bradbury, 1824).
Above the fruited plain!
What grand design that each seed below grows and flourishes, big and small in the Mountain’s perfect time.
America! America! God shed His grace on thee
It’s not just a high rock. God chose to give me the freedom to know the Rock, in this time, to bless me with something certain, something true.
And crown thy good with brotherhood
We friends gathered praise the Rock of truth, The Mountain of power, singing His one true name, Jesus. The sun wraps tall shadows round us. This time-dance brings joy.
From sea to shining sea
As the crow flies, we can see the edge of the whole world from up here, we’re looking, thinking, longing to see and touch it.
O beautiful for patriot dream
With the Mountain, splendor of nature, untouched, untamed, unspoiled and free. I be with the Mountain. He me frees.
That sees beyond the years
The Mountain knows time is a construct of man. He never commands me “go down home.” I choose when to leave Him and how long to remain.
Thine alabaster cities gleam
He washes me white as snow.
Undimmed by human tears
I have the right to go into His throneroom, high on the mountain, crawl up in His lap, put my head on His chest, wrap myself protected and invisible in His robes, and cry like a baby. I can laugh with Him until I snort.
America! America! God shed His grace on thee
Anyone can go to the Mountain. He has enough room for all. He’s so huge that I have never seen all His paths, sides, or ways.
And crown thy good with brotherhood
I am the Queen of the Mountain, the Daughter, and the Bride. Each me wears a crown and does not hang her head. The Mountain loves what He made.
From sea to shining sea
The ocean creatures cry out the name of the Mountain and recognize all His handiwork.
America! America! God shed His grace on thee
If every creature recognized the handiwork of the Great One with open eyes, what a different world it would bee.
And crown thy good with brotherhood
If each man could not deny the greatest commandment, Love they neighbor, how crowded the Mountain would be with joyful worship.
From sea to shining sea
All the mountains would be crowded, from sea to shining sea. When we know where true love exists, we can’t help but want to be as close to the source, the One who loves us, as we can get.
Bates, K. (Lyricist). 1895. Ward, S. (Composer). 1883. America the Beautiful. [Song]. Oliver Ditson and Company. Boston, Massachusetts. 1910.
Mote, E. (Lyricist). Bradbury, W. B.(Composer). (1824). The Solid Rock. [Song]. The Spiritual Magazine,1(8).
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