And I pray

In silence of the morning dew

The rippling breezes whisper there,

I mark the moments, late and few,

A curtain drawn in shimmering air.

Red blossoms sleep, their silken heads,

The rising sun will waken them,

The garden paths the Lord God treads

Will meet within Jerusalem.

Yet now I wait, but in the hushed

Sweet stillness that around me stays

I sense a growing, childlike trust,

An angel with me, and I pray...