God Sing's His Hyms
God Sing's His hyms
We wake to a horizon birds singing there
hyms, While traffic cruses by, Can't help to
wonder if they take time to smell the roses.
Ringing of chimes as God sings his hyms cover
of gold emerald and rubys upon our domain, Means
winter is near while God sings his hyms a la you.
Soon all will remain is silver
glisting in the wind, which
is when the blues
stain our window pain.
Shunder to think what storms blow in
if we no longer had God to sing his hyms
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