Cinnamon on morning air
Sweetness rising like a prayer
A dusting on my coffee foam
It turns this kitchen into home
The oldest spice of sacred oil
Once blessed the priests upon this soil
Holy fragrance, ancient, sweet
Rising where the mornings meet
Cinnamon and morning light
Little glories, warm and bright
Even spices tell His story
Ordinary things hold glory
The Lord put sweetness in the bark
Of trees that grow up from the dark
So even bitter days can hold
A hidden warmth, a swirl of gold
Holy fragrance, soft and slow
Filling every room I know
Cinnamon and morning light
Little glories, warm and bright
Even spices tell His story
Ordinary things hold glory
Anointed mornings, holy ground
In the smallest things He's found
Cinnamon and morning light
Little glories, warm and bright
Even spices tell His story
Ordinary things hold glory
Cinnamon on morning air
Sweetness rising like a prayer
