The roses hush, the breeze turns still,
The night obeys your gentle will.
Each star grows faint, each shadow mild,
As heaven crowns its chosen child.

Where silence falls, your voice takes flight,
It carves new pathways through the night.
The dusk grows soft, the hours bend,
To guard the light you can’t suspend.

The roses hush, their blooms confess,
They yield to you in tenderness.
No thorn can bite, no stem can stay,
Where beauty shines to lead the way.