When I rise in the morning,
I worship.

When I write or sing,
or play my strings,
I worship.

When the quiet old man
works hard with his hands,
he worships.

When she teaches children day in and day out,
without recognition, without pay, without,
she worships.

When they stay up late to read and to pray,
making Him the very last thought of their very long day,
They worship.

When the child shares her toys
with the other girls and boys.
She worships.

When we bow our heads low
or fall to our knees,
When it’s a reflection of Him,
in word or in deed,
it’s worship.