I’ve never seen a purple mountain
but I’ve seen the amber waves
I’ve seen the spacious skies
above the golden grain
Swaying back and forth
like a gentle sea
wheat heads dangling above
on a continuous roll
The mind wanders and wonders
anyone on that hill watching me
this is the midwest
sea to shining sea…
No homes… no roads
that little patch of green
just amber waves
separate us
Oh yes, God shed His grace
on farm fields
with an occasional hawk
flying above
It is spiritual land
and a spiritual home
His Presence is found
on this ocean of gold…
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