When a  little girl finds music,Her world opens, expands,Her fingers find:New paths to wander down,New roads to dream along.New corridors to explore,New passageways to tomorrow.

Flowers are poems themselvesWritten in God's handSent to touch our heartsTo make us understandHis love for us is pricelessImmeasurable and grand.He wrote for us the prairie flowersLove letters 'cross the land.

Many flowers bloom on earth.Many sweet songs are sung.Many treasures men have found,Countless stars God has hung.Many bright treasures wash ashoreMany grand trees spread tall.Many works of God's design,Birds and beasts and all.Nothing compares with one thing,Nothing is half so fineNothing touches the winsome grin On the face of this grandson of mine!