The presence of the Almighty,
The King of Glory,
Permeated the morning air,
Causing a stillness to fall upon the farmland.
The tree's who were frolicking in the wind,
Now lay in somber solitude.
They dare not move!
They feel the Lord God pass through their fragile branches.
A hush covers ever so quietly the fields of gold.
Today Yahweh has touched the infertile ground with His glory.
The soil cannot help but sing His praises.
The black birds sit on the wire.
They do not dare make a sound.
They watch and wait for a mere glimpse of the King.
They know instinctively the Father cares for them.
The old farmer looks up towards heaven,
And wipes the sweat from his brow.
He thinks to himself...
Today I have felt the presence of my Lord.
The King of Glory,
Permeated the morning air,
Causing a stillness to fall upon the farmland.
The tree's who were frolicking in the wind,
Now lay in somber solitude.
They dare not move!
They feel the Lord God pass through their fragile branches.
A hush covers ever so quietly the fields of gold.
Today Yahweh has touched the infertile ground with His glory.
The soil cannot help but sing His praises.
The black birds sit on the wire.
They do not dare make a sound.
They watch and wait for a mere glimpse of the King.
They know instinctively the Father cares for them.
The old farmer looks up towards heaven,
And wipes the sweat from his brow.
He thinks to himself...
Today I have felt the presence of my Lord.
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