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Hidden in the warp and woof
of this world,
The spirit of threads that
run both across, and up and down
The yawning fabric of this
place called mother earth,
In the twinkling of the
stars, and thunder in the lightning high above
In the wild of the winds,
and the crashing of ocean waves coast to coast,
In the majesty of mountains,
and the cumulus of clouds that decorate the sky
In the rushing of raging
rivers, and the arcing of rainbows across the horizon,
In the tabernacle of salvation,
and the hearts of those who believe
And in the hope of prayer,
and all acts of love by His bride, the church,
God waits, until He chooses
to reveal, to let His chosen children see
It's been Him all along,
His will, His good pleasure, His great mercy,
When what is supernatural
tears a hole in what is natural;
Only then can those who
finally have eyes truly disenthrall.
Matthew 11:25
Ephesians 1:9
Psalm 119:18
John 8:32
See this poem @ His Newsman |
