In the hush of dawn, where the forest lies, Wrapped in a veil of mist, soft as sighs, Steps a figure, robed in white, Jesus walks through the morning light.
The trees, ancient, bow in grace, Branches bending to touch His face, Leaves whisper secrets, old and wise, Reflecting heaven in His eyes.
Birdsong halts in reverent awe, Nature pauses, free from flaw, Every creature, still and serene, Basks in the love of the Nazarene.
His footsteps, gentle, kiss the ground, A sacred silence spreads around, In the mist, the air grows pure, A healing presence, calm and sure.
Streams of sunlight break the haze, Casting halos, heaven’s gaze, Upon His path, where flowers bloom, Banishing shadows, lifting gloom.
He speaks no word, yet all is heard, In the heart of every bird, In the rustle of the leaves, In the breath that nature breathes.
Through the forest, He does tread, A haloed crown upon His head, A shepherd to the lost and found, Grace and peace in every sound.
In the forest mist, so clear, The Savior walks, ever near, Bringing solace, hope, and light, Turning dawn into day from night.
A sacred scene, a holy tryst, Jesus in the forest mist, A vision of eternal grace, In every leaf, in every space.