There's a little grave on the green hillside
That lies to the morning sun
And the wayworn feet often wander there
When the cares of the day are done
We sometimes sit in the twilight fall
And talk of a far off land
And I sometimes feel in the twilight there
The touch of a vanished hand
Grave on the green hillside
Grave on the green hillside
In the years [bad word] we will calmly sleep
In a grave on the green hillside
And this land is full of these little graves
In the valleys, plains, and hills
There's an angel, too, for each little grave
An angel sufficient, Bill
I know not how, but I sometimes think
That they lead us with gentle hands
And a whisper falls on a willing ear
From the shore of a far off land
Grave on the green hillside
Grave on the green hillside
In the years [bad word] we will calmly sleep
In a grave on the green hillside
And these little graves are but wayside marks
That point to a far off land
And they speak to the soul of a better day
Of a day that's near at hand
Though we first must walk through this darksome veil
Yet Christ will be our guide
We will reach the shore of a far off land
Through a grave on a green hillside
Grave on the green hillside
Grave on the green hillside
In the years [bad word] we will calmly sleep
In a grave on the green hillside