The morning sun breaks through faded sky; its brightness outlining the trees that stand, lonely and silent; silent and still…but with hope, pointing heavenward, and whispering in the wind: come, let us adore Him.

The withered leaves that have not fallen still hold on, though life seems gone. They rustle silently in the bitter cold, but do not fall; for they wait, and say: come, let us adore Him.

The ground is covered over with a great mass of white, spreading as far as the eye can see. It is frozen beneath the snow, hardened and worn, but it reflects the light from the morning sun saying: come, let us adore Him.

The clouds are skimming across the sky, newly born for today, gathering round in expectation for they approach saying: come, let us adore Him.

The birds, they wake with joyful praise, though this might be the coldest day; still they sing their songs and say: come, let us adore Him.

The water is melting, thawing under the warmth of the sun. It's running now, with much excitement, and bringing us along: come, let us adore Him.

And the wind it stirs and whispers. It heard from kings that he would be, and now it sighs, saying finally: come, let us adore Him.

Amazing grace, sets captives free, now with great voice comes to sing: let us adore Him.