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“Reverence,” Friend, Nov. 1992, 15


It doesn’t happen all the time—

A lot depends on me,

On what I’m feeling deep inside

As I listen quietly.

It’s more than just my folded arms,

Though that’s a place to start.

It’s more than just not talking—

It’s what is in my heart.

Sometimes I fill my heart with love

And hold this feeling close.

I think about all that I have,

‘Bout things that matter most:

The gospel Jesus taught and

His sacrifice divine;

My family, friends, and teachers;

All blessings that are mine.

Birds and flowers and trees and bugs,

Stars in the firmament—

When full of wonder for these and more

Is when I’m reverent.

Illustrated by Robert T. Barrett