GLORY

Gently, blowing trees

In a soft, swaying breeze

Play host to blinking fireflies

As the mystical twilight dies

Myriads of miniature glowing beacons 

Signaling to their mates

Rapturous joy of the mind

Such a scene unforgettably creates

As the sweet odor of honeysuckle

Fills the night air

I cast my eyes skyward to behold

The dazzling stars that are there

By the Word of the Lord were the Heavens created

And man upon the earth

By the Word, He has glorified Himself in all creation

And in those who have received the new birth

Truly the blackness of night,

Brings forth the glory of light

Just as the darkness of sin,

Glorifies God in those who have been born-again

And it is not of one's own will

Such a new birth comes about

But by God's choice only 

Surely there can be no doubt

Nothing within ourselves

Of which to boast

But only through His mercy

Are we spared that Eternal roast!

Made to inherit the throne of glory are the meek

those raised up from the dust, those that are poor

While God confounds the minds of the mighty

Who consider His Word merely foolish folklore

But this was His plan

Right from the start

To blind the minds of many

While to others, His knowledge to impart

To create light in the midst of darkness;

His glory to manifest

While the souls of the proud and mighty

Never find His rest

I am the Lord, that is My name

My glory I will not share 

I, who create the darkness and light

To whom shall you compare?

Photo and poem By Cynthia Holwick (2002)