In the quiet of the hour,
I walk with my Lord each day.
Sometimes in prayerful thought
Of what the Master is about to say.
Oft times I sit in silence,
gazing into heaven’s door,
wondering why it is,
that He chose me to adore.
My grace could never compare
with the beauty of a tree.
Why even the flowers
Are greater in stature than me.
Yet He watches over me
with tender loving care,
As a father loves his child,
My Lord is always there.
I listen for His voice,
As His presence draws near,
Knowing that the Master’s love
Will wipe away every tear.
Written By
John Marinelli