God, God, the children play.
Hear what they say.
“Bible!” They shout
Without any doubt.
They love to sing,
And the joy You bring.
Thank You for their smile.
I love it all the while.
Praise You!
7-4-2003 Friday
Written by Gail Brookshire
He's like the lightning in the sky each time I feel it near. The beauty of its pretty color sinks beneath my fear.
God, God, the children play.
Hear what they say.
“Bible!” They shout
Without any doubt.
They love to sing,
And the joy You bring.
Thank You for their smile.
I love it all the while.
Praise You!
7-4-2003 Friday
Written by Gail Brookshire