*
*
Autumn’s Paintbrush
It’s that golden moment
When the day nears quiet dusk,
And the mountains glow with an autumn sheen
In their vermilions and rust.
At this inlaid moment
Oh, fleeting is the sun.
The crags turn yellow then rose then brown
And twilight has nearly won.
I gaze outside the window pane
And at Midas’ touch I wonder
Cannot yet this moment wax
And stay a while longer?
When the day nears quiet dusk,
And the mountains glow with an autumn sheen
In their vermilions and rust.
At this inlaid moment
Oh, fleeting is the sun.
The crags turn yellow then rose then brown
And twilight has nearly won.
I gaze outside the window pane
And at Midas’ touch I wonder
Cannot yet this moment wax
And stay a while longer?
*
*
How thankful I am for the eyes that I have to behold the beauty of God's hand. We have been told to "lay hold upon everything good thing" and that "all things denote there is a God." Perhaps I am reiterating that which I have already spoke of in a earlier post, but somehow I feel that I cannot quite give justice to the loveliness that surrounds and penetrates this life I live!
I am thankful for the Gospel! It brings me a joy and a tranquility that this world is utterly incapable of offering me. I know that Christ live perfectly, that He suffered for us all, and that He desires that we but believe in Him and follow in His paths.
