My day in the hills has come to an end, I know.
A star has come out to tell me it's time to go.
But deep in the dark green shadows
are voices that urge me to stay.
So I pause and I wait and I listen for one more sound,
for one more lovely thing that the hills might say.
The hills are alive, with the sound of music,
with songs they have sung,
for a thousand years.
The hills fill my heart
with the sound of music.
My heart wants to sing ev'ry sang it hears.
My heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds
that rise from the lake to the trees.
My heart wants to sigh like a chime
that flies from a church on a breeze,
to laugh like a brook when it trips
and falls over stones on its way,
to sing through the night like a lark
who is learning to pray.
I go to the hills
when my heart is lonely.
I know I will hear what I've heard before.
My heart will be blessed with the sound of music,
and I'll sing once more.