A poem written out of overwhelm with the Father’s provisions, both perceived and unnoticed


Every blessing from above,
Poured out from the Father’s love,

Perfect, good, and true;

From the roof over my head,
To the needed daily bread,

All gifts come from You;

No blade of grass nor flower,
Springs up outside Your power,

You make all things new;

Who am I that You care for me?
When You saw all things come to be?

There’s nothing You can’t do;

God You are so very wise,
Good gifts hidden in pain’s disguise,

If not Yahweh, who?

February 13, 2017
March 1, 2017

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