Turn the lights down low, my love,
And tuck me into bed;
Frost has woven wintry spells
To crown my sleepy head.
Snowy blankets settle soft
To cover drowsy toes;
Hibernation croons its song
While frozen dreamscapes doze.
O Cleft in the Rock, you hide me well
when winter winds and storms compel
my mind to live in frozen lands,
or sifting snows bark harsh commands;
it’s then that, hidden, heart can cling
to den of hibernating Spring,
where soul finds rest from Winter’s grip,
and faith finds home, where hope won’t slip.