In the shaded meadow yonder beyond the vale

Where flow waves of spring’s gentlest breeze

God midst his mercies stills

And in the beauty of the moment

heavenly grace there falls

When a wanderer bends to his knees

To kindly tend a spotted fawn

Up till the moment that ultimately finds

Its’ shaky limbs are sure enough

To carry it forth into life

And onward yet a little farther

Somewhere beyond the garden gate

Grace there again lingers once more

This time to suffer the thorns

for the sake of a tiny child who’s

Gentle hands strain to free a tiny wren

Which thrashes to be free

For somehow it’s agile wings

Have become tangled in the briar

For beholden are the misfortuned

-the meek and gentle

Who dangers ever eye from afar

know they not that they are tended

by the very hand of God

And when sorrow twists and twines

its way about the heart

As if it were vines of the forgotten rose

Those who cry upon sleepless nights

A share more than fair of tears

In the beauty of the moment

God himself is there

To soothe away the heartache

And hush away the tears