Are there words enough,
To describe the works of His hands;
To list and ascribe the honour due Him
From ages past to the very next breath?
It is not a matter of length,
For even in every single breath,
Lies an enigma simply stated, but utterly confounding.
Are there words enough?
“…If Your presence doesn’t go with me,
Don’t carry us up from here.”
For in Your presence is liberty,
I know because I had been bound,
In more ways than I knew how to count.
It is Your presence that makes holy,
And You found me before I knew I was looking,
Or even what I was looking for.
He deserves the best, but I usually give Him the rest;
What’s left after I’ve taken what I ‘need’ and want;
I take a breath, take a bite, take a nap,
Before I consider how it’s all possible.
I take a step, get a hug, get my prize,
Then I wonder, what would He want?
He wants all of me, He deserves the best of me.
Who is bold enough to step into the heart of the Father,
And experience His agony as He gives up His beloved Son
For the return of His prodigal son and his seed?
Who is strong enough, to take in that wrenching pain
It took to forsake a suffering Son…hanging, bleeding, dying?
The sound my heart makes when it breaks in repentance;
The echoes that follow my steps as I come into Your presence;
The clash when my knees hit the ground in reverence;
Every beat of my heart, reminding me of Your goodness;
In Your presence, I do not shout to be heard, but to be felt.
In the depths of the night when Your goodness dawns on me,
Filling me with the pressing need,
To shout so loud I can feel my eardrums quiver.
All of creation declares the glory of God;
Without words they speak;
Even stationary they show;
Just by being, they proclaim.