A little shade will grow into a tree Leaving us in wonder as it sleeps Who on Earth can fathom, who on Earth can know? You are but a thought in your maker's eyes And I may not always believe But you're nothing short of a miracle Feeble, tiny hands bound for greatness You will rise and fall like the rest of us Love will keep you up, and always be the crutch That will see you through to the very last And I may not always believe But you're nothing short of a miracle Clever minds will second guess But to me, you're a living miracle Something else comes over me Grace has come to set me free In your hands, you hold a new forever We may not always believe Past which side we really see Pride and lust is our disease And the cure is you, little miracle