Whistling wind through the trees
The birds fly in and out among the trees
The creek below them bubbles and churns
As if an unseen hand is stirring the water
The clouds above increase and gather together
Tiny droplets begin to fall from the sky
To water the earth
The creek rises and overflows its banks
All the animals begin to run for shelter
And there hidden in a hole amongst some rocks
Lies a little dove
Safe and sound from the storm
We are just like this dove
For we are hidden in Christ
And no storm can over take us.
Living Fountain 