God, The Artist

God, when You thought of a pine tree,
   How did You think of a star?
How did You dream of a damson West
   Crossed by an inky bar?
How did You think of a clear brown pool
   Where flocks of shadows are?

God, when You thought of a cobweb,
   How did You think of dew?
How did You know a spider's house
   Had shingles, bright and new?
How did You know we human folk
   Would love them as we do?

God, when You patterned a bird song,
   Flung on a silver string,
How did You know the ecstasy
   That crystal call would bring?
How did You think of a bubbling throat
   And a darling speckled wing?

God, when You chiseled a raindrop,
   How did You think of a stem
Bearing a lovely satin leaf
   To hold the tiny gem?
How did You know a million drops
   Would deck the morning's hem?

Why did You mate the moonlit night
   With the honeysuckle vines?
How did You know Madeira bloom
   Distilled ecstatic wines?
How did You weave the velvet dusk
   Where tangled perfumes are?
God, when You thought of pine tree,
   How did You think of a star?

                     ~ Angela Morgan

O God, The Rock of Ages

O God, the Rock of Ages,
   Who evermore hast been,
What time the tempest rages,
   Our dwelling-place serene:
Before Thy first creations,
   O Lord, the same as now,
To endless generations,
   The Everlasting Thou!

Our years are like the shadows
   On sunny hills that lie,
Or grasses in the meadows
   That blossom but to die:
A sleep, a dream, a story,
   By strangers quickly told,
An unremaining glory
   Of things that soon are old.

O Thou Who canst not slumber,
   Whose light grows never pale,
Teach us aright to number
   Our years before they fail!
On us Thy mercy lighten,
   On us Thy goodness rest,
And let Thy Spirit brighten
   The hearts Thyself hast blessed!

           ~ Edward H. Bickersteth

The Secret

I met God in the morning
When my day was at its best,
And His presence came like sunrise,
Like a glory in my breast.

All day long the Presence lingered,
All day long He stayed with me,
And we sailed in perfect calmness
O'er a very troubled sea.

Other ships were blown and battered,
Other ships were sore distressed,
but the winds that seemed to drive them
Brought to us a peace and rest.

Then I thought of other mornings,
With a keen remorse of mind,
When I too had loosed the moorings,
With the Presence left behind.

So I think I know the secret,
Learned from many a troubled way:
You must seek Him in the morning
If you want Him through the day!

--Ralph Spaulding Cushman

The Love of God

"For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38,39

Could we with ink the oceans fill
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade,

To write the love of God above
Would drain the oceans dry,
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Tho' stretched from sky to sky.

O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints' and angels' song.

--Words found on the wall of
a prison cell 200 years ago

Hymn of the Week

"For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it." --Exodus 20:11

I Sing the Mighty Power of God

I sing the mighty power of God,
That made the mountains rise,
That spread the flowing seas abroad,
And built the lofty skies.
I sing the wisdom that ordained
The sun to rule the day;
The moon shines full at His command,
And all the stars obey.

I sing the goodness of the LORD,
That filled the earth with food;
He formed the creatures with His word,
And then pronounced them good.
LORD, how Thy wonders are displayed,
Where'er I turn my eye:
If I survey the ground I tread,
Or gaze upon the sky!

There's not a plant or flower below,
But makes Thy glories known;
And clouds arise, and tempests blow,
By order from Thy throne,
While all that borrows life from Thee
Is ever in Thy care,
And everywhere that man can be,
Thou, God, art present there.
--Isaac Watts (1784)