Far, far away their snowy peaks I see;
Far, far away their voices call to me,
And in my soul the echoes surge and roll -
I hear the mountain voices calling softly to me.

         Chorus

I'm coming, I'm coming, and my heart is light and free.
I hear the mountain voices calling softly to me.

Nearer I come to where the snowfields gleam.
Higher I climb, my mate the running stream;
And as I rise closer to azure skies,
My heart lifts high at voices calling softly to me.

Now over crags still up I press and on -
Still step by step where icy dangers yawn -
Where glistening slopes like shiny blessed hopes
Invite and lure, their voices calling softly to me.

On till at last I reach the top-most tip,
Then will my soul burst forth from joyful lip;
Then in with cloud my soul in rapture bowed,
I hush my heart to hear God calling softly to me.

(sing to the tune of "Old BlackJoe".
See also last page).