Treasures of the king
given to us, without merit, not earned
gifts of grace, each day,
given to us by the creator
for our blessing, our cup running over
grace upon grace, heaped on our lives
Failing to see, to feel him with us;
there nonetheless, always present
waiting for us, our awareness
our turning to him
grace ready when we are
for our whole life long
the promise of eternity
with our brother, our God
April 19, 2008
Psalm 23, Exodus 3:5 and reflections on
Ann Weems’s poem, “Holy Ground”
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