I stand and listen to creations song,
Oft cleft and crevice it rises a throng
Of voices and chimmers a crescendo on high,
To silence my thoughts, a soul's breathless sigh.
It quickens and grows as the sun crests the hill.
The day's harmony fall in swirls then stills,
Marking our time through this symphony chord,
Giving us peace from the Savior our Lord.
Field of the fawn wanders it meek;
Cry of the hawk splits the sky so bleak.
Strength of the bear ruling meadows of heather;
Grace of the swan so light on the feather.
O'er white crested mountains and valleys of plush,
And rivers through canyons and gorges that rush.
The deeps of the blue and the crush of the waves,
All witness the miricle played from the stave.
This life grand and great, this gift from God;
Gives us the will of reverenece to nod,
Submissive and loving we to creation belong,
To Author, Creator, and Word of the song.
JAG 2008
Mat 23:8; "be not ye called Rabbi: for one is your Master, even Christ, and all ye are brothren. 9 And call no man your Father upon the earth, for one is your Father, which is in heaven. 10 Neither be ye called masters; for one is your Master, even Christ. 11 But he that is greatest amoung you shall be your servant. Acts 4:12 Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given amoung men whereby we must be saved.
