“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.