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In the mornings, I walk with my face to the sun.
I look up at the sky and I thank God for all He’s done.
I see the clouds, painted deftly by His hand
And the singing birds, on the whispery trees they land.
In the mornings, I walk and take in the crisp air.
I feel His breath as it clings to my face and my hair.
I see the grass, it sparkles diamonds of dew
And the snails and their trails in a slime colored hue.
In the mornings, everything is once again made new.
The butterflies dance where the cardinals just flew.
And there right beside me, though I can’t see His face,
My Lord and my Savior, the one who took my place.
Ah, in the mornings, I breathe and I sigh
I speak of things I couldn’t let lie.
I walk and I talk and release the moans
For under the weight of everyone’s burdens I’ve groaned.
He says He relates - for He too has once been there
But unlike me, didn’t whine how life wasn’t fair.
“It’s not always easy, and it’s not always right.
But the reward is substantial if you follow the light.”
In the mornings, I walk with my face to the Son.
I look up at the sky and thank God for all He’s done.
I see the white clouds, green grass whispering trees
And finally realize it’s not about me.
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