The little church beside my bed
is small as it can be;
To enter in, I bow my head
and bend upon my knee;

But once inside, I stand before
the presence of God's throne;
He meets with me and no one more-
we two are there alone.

I talk to Him; He speaks to me,
and though no sound is heard,
His voice comes through with clarity;
He knows my every word.

He sees the weakness of my flesh;
He knows my secret sin;
He gives to me His love afresh
to lift me up again;

I find the peace for which I search,
the strength for trials ahead,
Each time I'm in the little church
that meets beside my bed.