A little shade will grow into a tree
Leaving us in wonder as it sleeps
Who on Earth can fathom, who on Earth can know?

You are but a thought in your maker's eyes

And I may not always believe

But you're nothing short of a miracle

Feeble, tiny hands bound for greatness

You will rise and fall like the rest of us
Love will keep you up, and always be the crutch
That will see you through to the very last


And I may not always believe
But you're nothing short of a miracle

Clever minds will second guess
But to me, you're a living miracle


Something else comes over me
Grace has come to set me free
In your hands, you hold a new forever


We may not always believe
Past which side we really see

Pride and lust is our disease
And the cure is you, little miracle