Sometimes we find what matters most
Is not what we first thought.
It’s not the fame or the fortune,
Or the things they have brought.
It’s little things like the dear friend
Who loves me patiently,
Or listens while a babble on
About what’s bugging me.
It’s waking up from one more night
Still safe in my own bed,
Or a day that started out wrong,
But turned out right, instead.
The little things that mean the most,
Those I could not have planned,
I find come readily to me
Directly from Your hand.
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