Lord, You see my mortal heart and mind,
They strain
To break the chain
That bids me offer feeble praise to Thee
Through my humanity.
But, someday, in more glorious climes
I’ll dwell
And I will tell
Your awesome wonders in a voice set free
From earth.
But birth
Is given here to each sunrise
By Master Painter, God,
While I upon this sod
He, loving, watches if I
stop and drink
From the brink
O’er which spills brilliant colors
Of the morn,
Or if I scorn
And race to catch some tawdry bauble
Cut adrift
And rift
From His Presence found so richly everywhere.
But hush,
The dusty rush
Of noise and action, and the crush of worry
Crowd His face
From its place within my heart.
In fellow mortals do I see the beauty He has formed?
Am I warmed
To look upon the scarlet trees, with orange
And gold
That raise hues bold
Against an azure, autumn sky?
As their leaves,
Surrendered, drift to rest
On hill’s bronzed crest
They weave a carpet fashioned by their fragrant death.
Do I smile and ponder with my heart
Joy, undefiled
Of one small child
Who laughs a hundred times a day?
In her delight
Do I hear the song
Of angel throng
Who each appears before our God in heaven?
Do I pause
In the mad race
to offer praise
To love’s Author who engraves upon my soul
the gift of those
That I hold dear.
Lord, so near,
Set aflame the lamp within my heart.
Fix me upon a hill.
Might I forever burn.
And let me turn
The darkness back that ever seeks to foul your
Glorious light.
And in the night
Of others’ ruined lives,
in love and mercy, might
I Lead the way
To that bright day.
Lived in increasing splendor in eternity with you.
God of grace,
Come take your place.
Rule all my life for I am Your’s.
You are mine,
My God, my King.
Myself I bring.
I, Your masterpiece,
forever,
oh, Master Artist, God.
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