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The crystal waves which beat the sand,
In arbitrary rhythm,
Make me sway and tap my feet;
I want to dance with them.

And when I sit upon the field,
When harsh winds blow all 'round,
The grass does rustle and trees whisper,
I sing to match their sound.

And oft I walk in Winter's wood,
In frosty northern highlands,
Sun glints in every flake of snow,
I sing to match their silence.

And when I walk through bust'ling town,
And see each unique face,
I ask the Lord to bless and keep them,
And thank Him for His GRACE!

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