Our God comes in the quiet things.
Even now the heavens are declaring His glory, but not a word is spoken.
Trees praise with uplifted arms.
Light burns with joy, turning sunset bright.
He whispers His love on white butterfly wings.
As blossoms fall from budding trees, we see His goodness.
The fullness of the earth is His and cannot help but shout silent His wonderful works!
If only I would stop and see the words He's written on the world.
To be still. . . quiet. . . and hear Him speak.
No comments:
Post a Comment