The Fringes of His Ways
He flings the galaxies in time and watches their unfolding;
Their ordered vastness still reveals the world His hands are molding.
There’s not an atom out of place, no creature’s reach or yearning,
His reign unthwarted even when His praise our ways are spurning.
These whispered wisps of how He works so hush our hearts with wonder,
Could we expect or be inclined to comprehend His thunder?
No man can stand or hold in hand His holy judgment’s terror.
His fury burns unquenchably and knows no trace of error,
Yet moves mysteriously to Him whose love is all perfection,
The wrath to bear in conquest there and win the resurrection.
These whispered wisps of how He works so hush our hearts with wonder,
Could we expect or be inclined to comprehend His thunder?
He shakes the heavens, then is still, till once more He will rend them,
But distant echoes linger long for those who apprehend them.
In soft, slow strains He stoops to speak for infant ears to hear Him,
Our questions to dissolve in tears of thanks to love and fear Him.
These whispered wisps of how He works so hush our hearts with wonder,
Could we expect or be inclined to comprehend His thunder?
Ed Morris, 2010
(Based on Job 26:14)
This page copyright © 2010 Edward A. Morris. Created July 12, 2010. Last updated July 12, 2010.