With the Dawn

Morning breaks on sweet hills of grace
painting dawn in shades of pink and grey.
Night retires beneath the forest floor,
falling stars chasing in the hours of day.

Every blade of grass awaits,
am army standing attention for their commands;
they're dying to be alive and wanted..
tensing at the sweep of their Creator's hand.

Hope streams through the light,
dawn heralding the angels' songs.
He counts the blades, all in their place..
like night, condemnation fades with dawn.

"But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
More than watchmen wait for the morning
More than watchmen wait for the morning."
Psalm 130:4-6