Poetry on God's Creation "And creation's wonders are but the outer fringe of God's works; how faint the whisper we hear of him!"---Job 26: 14
Monday, April 4, 2011
In My Hands
A pale, thin ray of straining sun Slipped through my clenching fist I still refused to let it run And stifled it to rest. Oh, how could I, who knew no light Let it disturb my mind A thing which turned the sheet of night And healed the broken blind? Too great to hold, too fair to free A thing of grace and peace Before my heart could learn to flee The sun made its release.