He paints the deserts with His brush,
this Artist King we now can touch;
dipping rainbows into fire,
beyond His Glory nothing's higher.
From sweeping hills topped verdant green
to canyons carved with depths unseen,
His voice brings forth an eagle's flight,
His hands our nest on star filled nights.
O sing our praise to God our Light,
whom woods declare with awesome height
and sparkling seas before Him rest
or thunder all their mighty best
from but a whisper of His Breath.
This Great Sovereign Majesty
on Christmas Eve fell to our feet,
to draw our souls into His Grace
that we could look upon His Face
and with Him live eternally
in the woven Tapestry
completed by His sacrifice
for which that night He gave His life.
Video version of poem on Youtube at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-e8LokFKrbU (a little corny except for the fact that each photo was taken first-hand by me and inspired this praise poem - not pretty internet clips, I saw the beauty for myself)
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