There Are Many Blessings To Be Counted Poem by David Grant Sinclair

there are many blessings to be counted,
when first our eyes are opened wide.
love me this morning, my darling -
from each other let us not hide.
each other let us not hide.

if hurtful words e'er be spoken,
may they be mended and soothed in kind.
love me today, my darling -
and leave what is past behind.
leave what is past behind.

our health, it yet may fail us,
til frail we shuffle bent and slow.
love me at dusk, my darling -
though fading our light may grow.
fading our light may grow.

when the world is cold and lightless,
may our darkness be warm and long.
love me tonight, my darling -
tomorrow we may be gone.
tomorrow we may be gone.

but if i go before you, my darling,
it won't be my choice, though go still i must.
love me when you dream, my darling -
where nothing loved is ever lost.
nothing loved is ever lost.