O God who created mountains
Shaped valleys with his hand
Watches dassies at their play
And yet sees all of life unfold
Your voice is in the cry of a newborn
In the playing of children
The sigh of a mother
The voice of a father
From the first breath to the last
The wind in the peaks to the ocean spray
I've found you in the scudding clouds,
The forests
The timid disas hidden near streams.
The mountains are your cathedral
The skies your glory
The stars your crown
And I - I have walked on the mountains
Seen you in their beauty and harshness
God of this amazing creation
I have loved finding
Endless places we've explored
Fires we've shared and stars we've counted
Through all of life and now to beyond
I hear a call to come higher up, and further in.
-----------
This poem was written for and is dedicated to John Freislich, lover of mountains, valleys and streams - died Sept 10, 2008. John died of a brain tumour about 2 months after I gave him this poem. He was a most amazing man and you can meet him at http://mybraintumour.blogspot.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment