Abundant proof in wondrous sights,
Beyond the cities' shadowed blight:
Stark mountains blue-skies distant,
Brazen river's thunder-dash,
Soft meadow's sweet contentment--
Wrapped in heather like a sash,
Rich prairie wheat-sea rippling,
Forest lush with promise teems:
Above the struggling sapling
Royal oak its hope redeems.
Glad sun arouses every beast,
But Man alone rebels.
And if, by awe's evangelist,
We hear the praise it tells;
We smirk, and nod conceitedly--
As though we knew of old--
What every bee and rock and tree
Since earth's dawn clearly told:
The Lord has formed the earth by hand
And left His fingerprint.
In star-framed, sun-illumined land
We stumble, doubt, and squint.
"I cannot see him," wise men say.
"Behold, our hands are in the way!"
~Mark A Rector