At last the cold, cold winterʼs gone
The snow, melted away,
So we can just sit back and Reminisce about our days.
We gaze around, and wonder
At the marvels He has wrought,
Of new life blooming everywhere,
things that just can not be bought.
A budding bush, a blossom bright,
No artist ever will
Create the beauty with his brush,
Only our Fatherʼs quill.
Itʼs said He works in ways unknown,
That man will never know.
We only have to live His way,
His blessings, Heʼll bestow.
So donʼt just wander aimlessly,
Searching for something better.
Just fold you hands, kneel down
Live His life to the letter
by C. Allen