In the quiet hush of morning light,
Heaven whispers soft and bright.
Through rustling leaves and skies so blue,
God’s sweet voice comes breaking through.
A breeze that brushes tear-stained cheeks,
Is how the Holy Spirit speaks.
Not thunder loud or flashing flame,
But gentle whispers call your name.
When trials come and hearts are torn,
In silent cries and spirits worn,
He sends His angels through the air,
To whisper, “Child, I’m always there.”
In darkest nights or brightest days,
He guides our steps in unseen ways.
A whispered word, a song, a sign—
Reminding us: His love’s divine.
So still your soul and bend your ear,
For Heaven’s whispers draw you near.
Not far away, not lost or gone,
But speaking softly… all along.
©heavenecho
H