If grass had a voice,
what would it say?
Watch your feet, show respect or,
don't be shy, I'm not for display.
If grass had a choice,
where would it go?
To the seaside shore
or gracing peaks of old?
Where is your voice
and what is your choice?
For like the grass of the field
to death we must yield.
Like Ruth, I had a choice
to stay behind or go,
turn my back on my gods
for a God I did not know.
Like Ruth, I had a voice
to plead for his protection,
asking him to be
my savior from destruction.
We are like grass...
when will we breathe our last?
But we have a choice
and we have a voice.
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