Words are spoken in my heart

I hear them gently call and part

Coherency and pensive thought

Given meaning and import


Sister, harken to my ways

Of pen, that they may brighten days

Ahead, and give you hope within

Chasing clouds of fear and sin


I'm speaking wisdom with my pen

Given to me, not my ken

God knows, I know, He's given me

A light ahead that I might see


The cherished dreams that fall away

Are never lost from light of day

God knows, I know, that thy tears

Are never lost in fading years


He keeps them in a bottle! Ken!

How He loves the hearts of men.

Each prayer, each tear and every sigh

To every dream He draweth nigh


Once old, we say with sage advice

Those cherished dreams are now a vice

Grown apart, and wiser we

Cynical with eyes to see


But God is wiser than the wise

Reality won't blind His eyes

Though discarded, hid away

Forgot to us- to Him is day.


Clearest are His eyes that see

So deeply into you and me

Searching out each hidden thought

He remembers us distraught


He remembers all our cries

Secret longings, hidden sighs

Heartbreaks, achings, earnest whim

Denied by us- but not by Him!


He Who marks the sparrow's fall

And declares to give us all

How can then our dreams thus die

When so earnest is His eye?


He keeps them in a bottle, Sis

Tears of sorrow and of bliss

Tears that we forget the day

Another thought chase them away


He won't forget. Tho' thou forget

Tho' I forget- He will not let

Dreams to ashes will not lie

To never wake, He'll tell us why


And hearing why, we will have joy

For great His earnest love employ

The means to make our every prayer

Meaningful to Him up there


T'is His delight to make us smile

And our yearnings seem worthwhile

Of every precious thing seemed lost

Our Father's counting up the cost


And making up to us, fourfold

Awakes the dream from dark and cold

And gives it life, and gives it wing

Until it seem a brand new thing


So brighter, greater, than we planned

Nor could ever understand

Beyond our knowing, yet raptured voice

Will raise in grateful prayer- rejoice.


It is of God, to take the dead

And pain and dirt and fear and dread

And make it new, and give it life

Restoring peace, tho' torn by strife


It is of God, to make it new

That precious thing, and not a few

Words of mine could ever span

The holy joy that is God's plan


Beyond me, Sister- you also,

The depth of love that God can show

Trust Him fully! He will be

Life and love to you and me.