Spring Comes South

Spring Comes South I take my pen in hand to write; But what have I to say? The moon is peeping through the pines The stars are blithe and gay. The night is alive with laughter; The Honeysuckle wafts on the breeze. The insects lift towards heaven. Their assorted melodies. Spring is in the South land; With a beauty rich and rare. Like a song in a solemn assembly; God's presence fills the air. It reminds of that garden; Where dwelt the first of men. I think of where we come from, And where we could have been. It is a time for a new beginning; When all may have their chance. The stars in the heavens are turning In their own sweet cosmic dance. Spring is a time for gladness. When things are created new. Death is replaced with new life. Sadness is pushed out of view. The Savior, a seed who was planted. Dead, covered up in the earth. But he came forth in beauty and power. A Lilly alive through New Birth. Spring is in the South land; With a beauty rich and rare. I can feel God's presence around me. In the warmth of the sweet spring air.