A Witness

I sat and mused beside a mountain stream.
I saw the fleecy clouds move swiftly "cross" the sky.
Through tall majestic pines the sunlight's gleam,
Danced lightly on each "ripplet" drifting by.

As I surveyed this grand and glorious view,
With all its wondrous beauty, rich displayed.
My thoughts turned quickly to our Father who,
Made every mountain, stream and "leafy" blade.

Our great creator God, who out of gloom,
and nothingness and void and endless strife,
Caused every tree and shrub and flower to bloom,
When He spoke into them all the gift of life.

And now they tell us of His loving care,
As each does flourish by His streams of love.
They daily lift their "hands" to God in prayer,
And point us to our Awesome God above.

And then I thought how my poor broken soul,
Was torn and scarred and ugly deep inside.
The ravages of sin did take their toll,
But Jesus entered in to ere abide.

And out of all the ruin that remained,
Out of the brokenness and pain and strife,
He turned my empty loss to glorious gain,
Created His own beauty in my life.

Now I, just like the stream and flower and tree,
Can point the way to Christ who took my place.
On that old rugged cross He set me free,
And I'll be a witness to His love and grace.

So if you're walking in the valley of despair,
Just lift you eyes to nature's vast array,
For it tells us of His mercy and His care,
In Him you'll find the true and living way.
© Ken Hammack

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