Psalm 65—The way the birthing earth moves from the grace to the grace.

Lord, I lift these lines 
And leave them with you. 
For the rest of it, silence 
Will have to pass for prayer. Listen.

When my faults flung me apart, 
You forgave and covered me.
You set me on my feet,
You started me over again.
You said, “My house is glad and good
And wide as the world. Stay with me.”

I laid my hand across my mouth and saw
The way the birthing earth 
Moves from the grace to the grace.
The ends of the earth give themselves to you.
You still seas and silence storms.
When morning dawns and evening fades
Unsaid sermons sing in the fox-hued sky.

Every day a kind of prayer rises from the ground:
First the snowdrops, then the daffodils, 
The lupine, the lilies. The goodness
Doubles itself, then doubles again.
Your river breaks its banks and where 
The water goes, everything lives.
Your fingers furrow the fallen earth.
You break heaven itself over us.
You crown the year with goodness, and
Plenty spreads in a wide wake behind you.
Every night, all the stars that ever were
Dapple the dark sky just for the joy of it. 
And every day, it isn’t the sun, but the song
That makes the green world grow
And the chorusing earth burst back alive.

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Psalms: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 47, 53, 54, 61, 62, 63, 66, 70.

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Photo by Nils Lindner on Unsplash