They follow you in quietness and peace.
We see their foot prints wetly drawing on
To climb the grassy hill among the trees,
The dew, grey frosty mist and breaking dawn.
Each breath a prayer a praise, a wonder song,
The night of sleep now over, morning come.
All birds and flowing waters sing along,
Defeated shadows to the light succumb
With hooded hearts and folded hands they pray,
While rising sun plays lightly in the trees,
And still they bow and bless the coming day,
Friend and foe alike their intercessories.
Unsung your living saints, your prophets, kings,
The cosmos with their morning anthem rings.