Mountains made, molded, and mossed,
And tickled by stream and scurry of squirrels.
Waterfalls dripping o’er rock face embossed
With lichen lush laden in billowing swirls
Of midst and splendor.
Glaciers that crack as slowly they’re sliding
And traveling down the valleys to sea.
They beckon me come and rest, still abiding,
While standing in awe of Your sheer majesty.
Yet You still called me.
I love all the ways You have called me to share
And am shocked by the clarity of time and place
And yet none of this is as good to compare
To the awe that I want to have of Your grace.
Without awe, my calling is fading and lost
In ideas and plans, schedules and days.
I begin to see darkly, like windows with frost
But I want to delight, to rejoice, and to praise.
Help me, like when I am hiking Rainier,
To keep my eyes upward and trained on Your grace.
Give me faith to obey You and ears to hear
More important than doing is viewing Your face
And all of Your splendor.
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