Sometimes I steal away to a quiet place and seek my Heavenly Father’s face.
In his presence I find the peace to calm my troubled mind.
He walks with me on green garden paths and by Blue Mountain streams.
I hear his still soft voice whisper in the sound of rippling streams
and in the whisper of the pine trees.
Ever listening for my call, around me his mercy drops fall.
When I bow beneath my heavy load and tears streak my face
He is always there with a warm embrace.
When God speaks in whispers I can see his love all around
For Brian Strand's contest: Any theme