Not sure the correct category to post this, so I'll try chit chat. My grandfather had this poem about love for the mountains that hung in his home for many years. It was written by H.R. Merrill who worked at BYU:

Oh, God, let this be heaven—
I do not ask for golden streets
Or long for jasper walls
Nor do I sigh for pearly shores
Where twilight never falls
Just leave me here beside these peaks
In this rough western land,
I love this dear old world of thine—
Dear God, You understand.
Oh, God, let this be heaven—
I do not crave white, stainless robes
I’ll keep these marked by toil.
Instead of straight and narrow walks
I love trails soft with soil;
I have been healed by crystal streams,
But these from snow-crowned peaks
Where dawn burns incense to the day
And paints the sky in streaks.
Dear God, let this be heaven—
I do not ask for angel wings
Just leave that old peak there
And let me climb ‘til comes the night—
I want no golden stair
Then when I say my last adieu
And all farewells are given
Just leave my spirit here somewhere
Oh, God, let this be heaven!