Just as the bee hums his serenade
To the rose blushing with wild delight,
Let soft murmurings flow from your lips --
Speak to me of Love . . . come thrill my night

Every spoken word becomes a flower
(Even Angels smile when you speak low;
Though divine, they cannot comprehend
How my garden blooms in winter's snow)

Love can transform time and circumstance,
Foster hope when mercy's spring runs dry;
Midst torrential rains the sun still shines,
Rainbows stretch across the midnight sky

Yet, when anguish takes aim at my heart,
Piercing it with grim accuracy,
How your words bestow Love's healing balm
Still remains a mystery to me!

How can words of Love possess such power?
When true love resides in the heart's core,
Then the words that flow are absolute,
And this pain-filled world exists no more

Carry me to that enchanted realm
Where we'll join the blessed throngs above;
I have no doubt that Heaven exists
When you whisper your sweet words of Love