Song from a Secret Garden

If I held in my hand, every grain of sand,

Since time first began to be,

Still I could never count, measure the amount,

Of all the things you are to me.

If I could paint the sky, hang it out to dry,

I would want the sky to be….

Oh, such a grand design, an everlasting sign,,

Of all the things you are to me.

You are the song that comes on summer winds,

You are the falling year that autumn brings;

You are the wonder and the mystery—

In everything I see the things you are to me.

Sometimes, I wake at night, suddenly take fright,

You might be just fantasy,

But then you reach for me and, once again I see,

All the things you are to me.

You are the song that comes on summer winds,

You are the falling year that autumn brings;

You are the wonder and the mystery—

In everything I see the things you are to me.

Did I Not Love You? 

Did I not love you,                                The widest ocean,                               And I’ve been traveling,

Before this lifetime?                               I have crossed over,                             Throughout the ages,

Did you not hear                                   No boat did I row,                              Down though the pages,

My music in your soul?                         But love to carry me;                          Of history;

Did I not need you,                               I have been ever,                                 Just for this moment,

Beyond forever?                                     In constant motion,                          This timeless moment,

And now I’ll leave you…                      I have been needing you,                   This wondrous moment…

Not for ever more.                                Eternally.                                            Of you and me.

My Land

How green are you valleys, how blue your great skies,

You mountains stand tall in their glory;

Your rivers run free—the bright stars are your eyes,

Your beauty is endless before me.

For you are the song ever singing in me,

And you are the heart ever true;

For you are my land and you always will be,

The voice ever calling me home to you.

When to you green valleys someday I return,

When you lay your mantle around me;

At rest I will be where the heart will not yearn,

Then my land will ever surround me.

For you are the song ever singing in me,

And you are the heart ever true;

For you are my land and you always will be,

The voice ever calling me home to you.

The voice ever calling me…home to you.