And a poem by my great grandmother, Mary Griffin Kramp:
The Hills of God
Whence comes my help? The hills of God.
The fields and flowing streams,
The changing seasons with their wealth,
The rain and light that beams.
Whence comes my strength? The word of God.
With messages so dear:
The blessed thought that though we sin,
His help is ever near.
Whence comes my help? The promises
That e’er before me rise,
To know that after all this earth
We dwell in Paradise.
Whence comes my all? The gift of God,
Our blessed Saviour’s love.
His sacrifices, pain and tears,
To make our home above.