As flowers blossom in the Spring,
when little birds and crickets sing,
I wonder Lord, beneath your wing,
"Where do you think of me?"

When I hear waves crash on the beach,
hot sand and shells within my reach,
I wonder Lord, "Do these things teach
how much you think of me?"

In the touch of an autumn breeze,
and the laughter of rustling leaves,
I wonder Lord, when on my knees,
"Just why you think of me?"

There in the darkness, shining bright,
the moon and stars fill up the night,
I wonder Lord, "With all that light,
Could you still think of me?"

Upon the cross with arms spread wide,
with blood still flowing from your side,
I wonder Lord, "If there you died
because you think of me?"