The Humble Things*

The Humble Things

Raging winds of confusion rise

In this, the ending time;

Suddenly awakened, the dove cries out--

As whirlwinds scream and whine--

This storm was born in prosperity,

For fake light and lies deemed true--

God's word ever holy, thunders

Tossing silly plans askew.

Behold: rains ravage mountains

And thunder confounds the sky;

Men connive in folly and pride to profit

As little birds croon and sigh--

But look! Glory rises for the longing

Of wing, and prayer, and bud;

All those that flutter underneath

Will lift to the Saviour's love.

Seed-- and bird-- and orphan--

Turn within this arc;

Creation bends, a circle--

God spun the world with spark.

Oh, little dove, yet trembling

Be still that frantic wing;

For the Father hears your lonesome cry,

And regards the humble things.

(~Abby Elizabeth Charland

God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent: hath he said, and he shall not do it? Or hath he spoken, and shall not make it good?
                                                                           --Numbers 23:19