Be it Summertime's green or Winter's white,
That tall distant pinnacle leads me where,
All people join in song and prayer.
And bells ring out in dawn's new light,
Touching all of the souls who gather there.
Oh steeple tower that pierces the sky,
I always see you above the trees,
In June..when their crowns sway with the breeze,
Or Wintry morns..when snowy boughs sigh.
From the river's edge, I gaze each day.
In my forest home I can see,
Your spire of faith that calls to me,
To ride by surry or horse driven sleigh,
To my church in the Evergreen trees.
