The mountains envied Mt. Zion,
Where Christ would fulfill God’s will.
Tho’ the mountains thought themselves mighty,
They fell short of that little hill.
They watched as Jesus carried His cross,
And their stones cried out in vain.
They witnessed the crucifixion.
And they heard Him cry out in pain.
They stood arrayed in beauty,
That came from heaven above,
By the man on the cross, the Son of God,
And He formed them with great love.
They wept when He breathed His last,
Forming streams, waterfalls and fountains.
They thought their Creator was gone forever,
When He died on the little mountain.
They could see from where they towered,
That Christ was placed in a tomb.
They watched as His mother wailed,
At the loss of the fruit of her womb.
All at once they began to tremble,
As the earth began to quake.
The sun refused to shine,
And the dead began to awake.
Gloom filled up their valleys
The trees hung their limbs in despair.
Three days later they saw a bright light,
And all they could do was stare.
An angel rolled the stone away,
That was put there by His foes.
Jesus had conquered death,
For from that tomb He arose.
The mountains broke out in color;
The trees began to sway.
The stones sang a song of praise,
And the sun shone brighter that day.
Envy was turned to honor,
Toward the mount that had suffered great strife.
For that is where Christ chose to die,
And create a River of Life.
Becky Overturf Wall
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