In the trace of all that you have made, O Lord,
in the witness of the wind and the rain,
in the testimony of pleasure and pain,
in the script of soil and sand,
I see the work of your hand
and I marvel.

In the record of all that you have done, O Lord,
in the ache of winter and the scorch of sun,
in the way that water moves on the face of the earth,
in the stillness of death and the thrashing of birth,
I wonder at your ways
and I kneel.

In the patterns that you have sorted, O Lord,
in the horse’s mane and the hummingbird’s wing,
in the coyote’s yelp and the warbler’s sing,
in the wood moth’s blend and the butterfly’s bright,
I gain some glimpse of your great might
and I admire.

In the working of your ways in my own heart, O Lord,
in the grinding of bitter pride and each new start,
in the gentle softening of mournful pain,
in the mercy and grace of unearned gain,
I feel your tender touch
and I yield.

In the witness of your great love, O Lord,
in fire and wind and a white-winged dove,
in the shadows of an ancient cross,
in earth’s own rumbling at heaven’s loss,
I see the measure of redemption
and I rejoice.

In your presence, O Lord,
I marvel,
I kneel,
I admire,
I yield.
I rejoice.

Blessed be your name,
O Lord.