"God is love," the little birdies,

In the nest up in the tree,

Seem to say with their sweet voices,

"God is love," to you and me.

"God is love," the big trees whisper,

As they give us pleasant shade;

"God is love," and this they tell us,

"All good things by Him were made."

"God is love," the bending fruit trees

Whisper low to you and me;

"God is love," oh, little children,

Let us ever thankful be.


After the storm the rainbow,

Bending far above,

Seems to say,

In her own sweet way,

"Children, God is love."

"All Things Tell Us, "GOD Is Love."


"God is love," The squirrel chatters,

As he gathers Winter's food.

"And my heart Is full of gladness;

God is great And He is good."

"God is love."

I'm sure He watches

0'er the squirrels, And birdies, too.

"God is love."

I'm sure He's looking,

Lovingly, At me and you.


God is Love

 "God is love," the snowflakes whisper,

As they linger in the air;

"God is love," the breezes murmur,

As they meet us ev'ry-where.

Little stars that shine in heaven,

As they twinkle far above,

Peeping, smiling at each other,

Whisper gently, "God is love."

"God is love," the little birdies

In the tree-tops over-head,

Seem to say with their sweet voices—

Praising Him by whom they're fed.

 "God is love," "God Is love,"

All things tell us, "God is love."

J.H. Fillmore