Lettie and John lived on a mountain side,
On the very edge of time's slow moving tide.
They often sat by deepest-flowing spring
And viewed the marching centuries in the thing.
They walked out there beneath great-branching trees
And scanned the lofty heavens up thru these.
At night the stars came out in clearest sky,
To shine thru trees, their hopes to glorify.
They tilled the fragrant flowers at their door
And spent their days in living life the more.
They wrought in fields not far from their dear home
And sought less of the world in which to roam.
They reared ten children by the hardest toil
And kept themselves free from the world's turmoil.
They sang their songs before the cabin fire
And kept their souls clean of base desire.
They lived their lives upon the sloping sod
And surely found, in this true life, their God.
