NATURE
The hills and all the mountains,
Rise to meet You in the air.
The trees all stretch their branches,
Reaching way up there.
The flowers look so lovely.
As they blossom in the spring.
The birds all seem to have
A gentle praise of You to sing.
The snow so pure and white,
Reminds me of Your birth,
Storms are the temptations
You faced while on this earth.
The golden rays of sunshine
That chase the clouds away,
Are all the peaceful thoughts You give
When on our knees we pray.
The roses are so fragrant,
But blood red they do grow,
With thorns like those on
Your crown so long ago.
Some look toward the mountain
And only see the trees.
I look up and see a cross,
And One who's died for me.
POTPOURRI OF POEMS
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