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…