There is no mountain
whose peaks will brush the sky,
no sweeping valleys
unwinding beyond the eye,
no towering white cliffs
who pierce the steely sea,
no frosted forest
unveiling snow on evergreen;

But there is kindness
waiting at the door--eyes wide,
I am known.
Faithful friends
grant mercies of love,
I am born once more.

And there's a meadow
where shadows rise and fall,
memories were cast--
etched in paths worn on the grassy pall;
And there's an old brook
who babbles when I near,
whispers of stones thrown
while dreaming on an evening clear;

There is kindness
waiting at the door--eyes wide,
I am known.
Faithful friends
grant mercies of love,
I am born once more.

Text by Kyle Pederson