THE COUNTRYSIDE

I like to shun the busy street
The jostling maddening throng
For every step I must compete
And push and shove along
The heaving shops; the traffic loud
The fume polluted air
The littered streets; the pushing crowd
For these I do not care

I would rather wander the mountainside
Where the air is fresh and clean
Or walk along with measured stride
The valley pathway green
Or tread upon the forest glade
A pine needle carpet deep
Or trickling stream its waters wade
And watch a salmon leap

When to rest; a sun kissed stone
Becomes a welcome seat
And the lark it sings to me alone
My contentment is complete
If I could just but harmonise
With its melodious voice
A song of praise would surely rise
From a heart that does rejoice

All natures’ beauty it was caressed
By Gods’ own mighty hand
And with His jewels it was dressed
The sea, the sky, the land
The city streets; the hand of man
His work cannot compare
To mighty Creator; the great I AM
Whose glory is everywhere

He makes me lie in pastures green
And leads by water still
For sins forgiven I have been
To the Man on Calvary hill
The Son of God on centre tree
His death and then the grave
And arose again that He
My sinful soul could save
Oh give to me the countryside
Far from polluted air
The mountain high; the valley wide
And I’ll be happy there

Colin Moffett