Simple laughter with a few friends,
Gathered there for a meeting.
Little bird hopping, alive and on fire,
Joy without end, what a blessing.
An angel beside me in a family church,
As a little bird sang her praise.
Yet sound was lost in the moment,
The joy was not found in words,
As her silent fingers began dancing.
An angel was singing,
Her voice filled the world,
A little bird on fire.
A sparrow's flight of fancy,
Her heart soaring in a whirl,
Eyes alight with the Son.
As the words touched my heart,
And praise filled the room,
All I saw was her fingers dancing,
Times in life are trials to hear,
Storms rage in the midst of flight,
But the little bird flutters along.
Keeping eyes on the pot of gold,
Her greatest joy in struggles are told,
The moments with her Lord and King.
No rhyme or rhythm in words of praise,
Just emotion in an upraised hand,
As her silent fingers begin dancing.
Thousand years flying over heaven,
Dancing through fields in paradise.
Angels will smile remembering the day,
When the light first shone in her eyes.
As they start to call out for silence,
In the awed presence of the King,
The little bird praises all the more,
With her silent fingers dancing.
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