The Mountains: A Sonnet To My King
by Jonathan D. Eller
The mountains, Lord, are succor to my soul,
And fill me up when I am feeling low.
But only You can truly make me whole -
There's nothing that can do that here below.
Yet still I'm glad for ridges that are blue
And smoky valleys cloaked in mystery.
For this place always makes me think of You.
Their warm, inviting strength and majesty
Remind me just how Fatherly You are.
So its no wonder that I feel at home
When once again I come from places far
And take the time their passages to roam.
I thank You, Father, for this gorgeous place
You've made to give me courage in my race.
December 1, 2008
by Jonathan D. Eller
The mountains, Lord, are succor to my soul,
And fill me up when I am feeling low.
But only You can truly make me whole -
There's nothing that can do that here below.
Yet still I'm glad for ridges that are blue
And smoky valleys cloaked in mystery.
For this place always makes me think of You.
Their warm, inviting strength and majesty
Remind me just how Fatherly You are.
So its no wonder that I feel at home
When once again I come from places far
And take the time their passages to roam.
I thank You, Father, for this gorgeous place
You've made to give me courage in my race.
December 1, 2008
No comments:
Post a Comment