A 'Praise Him' Poem (and Happy Thanksgiving to our American Friends)

PAD Challenge day 22: For today’s prompt, write a praise poem. 

A poem that has only begun...

There is no end to our WOWZA (see inspiration for this term here)

 when it comes to Praising Him

in whom there is no shadow of turning.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, 

coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, 

who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17

 A few praise-him pics of daybreak...

(This is pick-a-stanza piece if it's a little long-winded for your taste😉)

Praise He who dissolves dark with pastel-pink of morning-tide

Who spreads four-season wonderment across the country-side

Who does not give what we deserve but startles us with grace

In spite of all our wayward wants and worship we misplace

Praise He who woos us with His whisper woven deep within

Who knitted us together with far more than pulse ‘neath skin

Who, though He knew how hard the hurt of human plight might be

Created earth and heaven to showcase His majesty

Praise He who lets us laugh; who helps us through each day to day

Who stuns us with the handiwork of nature on display

(and who can count the marvels that He tips from misted jars

From teeniest of blossoms to the night-sky filled with stars)

...from newborn babe to ripe, old age His favor never fails

From bud to bloom to farewell’s tomb His faithfulness prevails

From folds of green to gold through winter’s cold, storm-tossed terrain

Praise He who keeps his promise; Springtime always comes again

Praise He whose Love will never falter, filled tender plea

The author of salvation and hope for eternity

Who, through His Son won for his own, death’s Great Deliverance

If we believe, and thereby receive faith’s inheritance

Praise He, who convicts us of sin that mars our happiness

For too often we want Him to bless our greediness

But praise Him, all-wise Father who works only for our good

And frustrates mortal grasp with mercies oft misunderstood

Praise He, who comforts us when pain or sorrow metes its Must

And calls us to remember our frames of dust-to-dust

Praise He who stirs within us a most keen and solemn sense

After this life all that remains is Choice’s recompense

Praise He who delights in us like a father in a son

And lavishes His love on us in ways never outdone

For He never forsakes His own but heaps grace over grace

Until we pass through the thin curtain that still veils His face

Praise He who dissolves dark with pastel-pink and golden cheer

Who never skips a season in the quadrille of a year

Who does not give us what we earn but renews mercy’s score

With a new day to learn to trust and pray a little more

Janet Martin~