I love you more than a slow-falling summer rain
more than a silence that only the snow leaves behind
better than the gray of the autumn air
better than spring in its blooming against the sky

It may not be red as the roses yet
It may not be strong as the old oak trees but
Love planted deeply becomes what it ought to be

And it may not be clear as the morning yet
It may not be wide as a restless sea but
Love given freely becomes what it ought to be

Hearts given freely becomes what they ought to
What it ought to be

Audrey Assad