I Might Show Facts As Plain As

Born In A Stable, Cradled In A Manger, In The World His Hands Have Made, Born A Stranger.

It Is Not The Deed We Do Though The Deed Be Never So Fair, But The Love That The Dear Lord Looketh For, Hidden With Lovely Care In The Heart Of The Deed So Fair.

My Heart Is Breaking For A Little Love

One Day In The Country Is Worth A Month In Town

Who Has Seen The Wind? Neither You Nor I But When The Trees Bow Down Their Heads, The Wind Is Passing By.