The Wind of the Spirit
The wind blows wherever it wills
Rustling leaves at its pleasure thrill
Blowing at a fierce pace
In the valley where we hardly trace
The wind blows where it wills
It sweeps the top of the mulberry tree
Leaves green fruits dropping in despair
Denying birds the fragrance of the air
The wind blows where it wills
We feel it, hear it, and sense it
Where it comes we do not know
It wills where it wants to blow
The Spirit blows upon His own mind
A sound like a mighty rushing wind
In ways we can't apprehend
In tongues we can't comprehend
The Spirit blows with aura of awe
He operates by His own laws
Not where we want Him to flow
No! we cannot constrain His glow
The wind of the Spirit blows to save
Rekindles even dry bones out of graves
He brings warmth and assuring power
And fill us with dew like a morning flower
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