Past scraggly troubadours etched black against a beaming
scrim
A new day climbs time’s tresses as God blesses man once more
Through star-strung gates dark dissipates; ten million
beacons dim
Where hymns of hope and wonder without reservation pour
How tall the sky, how small am I beneath its mighty blue
And what a multitude of holy blunder, human race
For Man is not a lost cause on some whim-tossed avenue
No, no; for us God fills, refills and spills love's jars of grace
Eons cannot contain the rubric of His faithful care
Again, again time’s wellspring with new measure thrills the
skies
Forbid that we forget the One who tunes this cup of air
And never deviates from Passion’s blood-bought enterprise
A new day climb’s time’s tresses; the beauty of duty hails
Ah, what is man that we are privy to delights so fair
That we should drink the loveliness of earth from heaven’s
grail
And touch the hem of mercy through the transport of a prayer
© Janet Martin
Have you stood beneath today’s Mighty Blue and thanked God
for it?
Beautiful. Ours wasn't blue today...more like gray-ish, but I am thankful anyway. ;-)
ReplyDeleteHi Jen,
DeleteYes, so much to be thankful for beneath any color of sky!
Thank-you for your thoughts:)