GOD'S COLORS

Who paints those lovely colors
That we see up in the sky?
Who caps those awesome mountains
With sparkling snow way up high?

Who puts a sheen of green
Upon each tall and stately tree?
Who makes the streams crystal blue
Softly flowing magic for you and I to see?

Who makes the sun so warm and bright
Then fills it with great power
To make the earth spring forth with color
With just a little shower?

Who gives each bird the song they sing
As they fly away so far
Who puts those tiny twinkles
In each brightly shining star?

Who in Heaven keeps watch upon
Each one of us each day?
And blesses us with all this glory
As we travel on our way?

(charlotte anselmo)

GOD IS
Author: Mae Bigelow

The fool who says that God is dead
Or never lived at all, a myth
To soothe the troubled hearts of men,
Deludes himself and others with
His idle prating, mere excuses
To live the way he will,
A deafened ear to laws of old
To keep his conscience stilled.

No man can say he never knew
The blessings from above,
If ever a mother held him close,
He felt the Master's love.

If he saw a cloud go drifting by,
Or thrilled to the song of a bird,
Or heard the sigh of a summer breeze
It was the Master's voice he heard.

If he climbed a mountain or waded a stream,
Or smelled a beautiful flower,
Or watched a storm rage overhead,
He felt the Master's power.

If ever he watched wild ducks in flight,
And felt his spirits soar,
Or saw a sunset at eventide,
He stood at the Master's door.

If ever he watched a loved one go,
Leaving sadness and sorrow such,
As could not be borne by mortal man,
Except for the Master's touch.

If ever he walked in a shady glen,
Or stood by a waterfall,
Only a fool would dare to say
That blind chance did it all.