High o'er the hills the mountains rise, Their summits tower t'ward the skies; But far above them I must dwell, Or sink beneath the flames of hell. Oh, God! forbid that I should fall And lose my everlasting all; But may I rise on wings of love, And soar to the blest world above. Although I walk the mountains high, Ere long my body low must lie, And in some lonesome place must rot, And by the living be forgot. There I must lie till that great day, When Gabriel's awful trump shall say, Arise, the judgement day is come, When all must hear their final doom. Then will I sing God's praises there, Who brought me through my troubles here I'll sing, and be forever blest, Find sweet and everlasting rest.