Sheltered

Sheltered

                                       Through the pines,

                                       Where soft breezes blow,

                                       Through the pines,

                                       We see traces of snow,

                                       Through the pines,

                                       Where birds build their nest,

                                       Through the pines,

                                       A doe and her fawn take rest.

                                       In God's arms we can safely go;

                                       There HIs shelter He will bestow,

                                       Giving us comfort and sweet rest.

                                       Remember, when those storms,

                                       Start to blow,                                                                     

                                       Into God's arms,

                                       We can safely go.