Thursday, May 15, 2014

Precious Privilege

He carves creek-beds and fills them
With spring’s first madrigals
Then threads its silver ribbon
Through rolling meadow-halls
He wreaths the earth with flowers  
And from Time’s spinning wheel
He weaves from naught the hours
Which fill each season-reel

He forms in hidden places
The lace of coppice-crown
The darkness He erases
With morning mantle thrown
Soft where the mountain towers
Before it warms the dell
He strums the waking bowers
In whispers, ‘it is well’

He rakes the deep with thunder
He sees the sparrow fall
From window-seats of hunger
We wonder at it all
And yet, while the mind questions
He stills the seeking heart
And all that we can murmur then
Is Lord, how great Thou art

Atonement’s Rock of refuge
Salvation’s thorny crown
Alpha and Omega God
Hope’s faultless corner-stone
He fills the night with morning
And thrills the stricken limb
Then grants to us the privilege
Each day, of serving Him

© Janet Martin

 He who forms the mountains, who creates the wind, and who reveals his thoughts to mankind, who turns dawn to darkness, and treads on the heights of the earth-- the LORD God Almighty is his name. Amos 4:13

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!