I do not know your earthly name
 Or recognize your face,
Yet from the fringes of my life
 You pray in silent grace;

With folded hands you lift me up
 Above the swirling chaff
And wrap my cares
 With gentle prayers
Sent forth on my behalf.

Your whispers drift upon the breeze
 And help my spirit grow
With prayers too bold for me to speak
 Or too naive to know;

And when my faith is burning dim,
 You nurture every spark
And plead my case
 Without disgrace
While kneeling in the dark.

How many others have you touched
 With your unceasing prayer?
How many teardrops have you shed
 When no one seemed to care?

How many dreams have been fulfilled
 Upon a sleepless night
Because you chose
 To shun repose
Until the morning light?

Yet when you pass from mortal life
 No mourner shall presume
How strong a warrior now resides
 Within that lonesome tomb;

But temples built for mortal praise
 Are not your sought reward
For love declared
 Through whispers shared
Between you and the Lord.