Alone, I am a dry and barren ground
Until Your Living Water gushes forth,
Then this wasteland is suddenly a Spring
Inhabited by a myriad of living things.
A song of gratitude is on my lips
As you have blessed me with so many gifts,
And not for these I thank you, Lord, but for
Your Self, the only Source, the Fountainhead
Of all my blessings. You the Treasure House
From which I draw an Infinite Supply
You are the only Place I am content
The sole Environment where I can bask
In the eternal bounty of Your Grace.
Your Love surrounds me; angels hover high
above my head and sing of the Union
Of a loving Father and a blessed Son
Who sought His happiness and now has found
It always did reside within Himself.
The song resounds with pulsations of peace
That move within Him, quickening his flesh,
And giving a Meaning unto his life
And Purpose to every activity
that he engages in with His Father
His Part to play was written in the stars
Long before He incarnated here.
Christ's footsteps still shine brightly in the sand;
Impressionable, soft, yielding to Him
For it does not present an obstruction
To being molded into His image
And in His image, seeing it is God's—
The Infinite Invisible's Likeness.
He witnesses and demonstrates for all
By sheer force of his realization.
He demonstrates by acts of consciousness,
Wherein He claims the holy Will of God
For Himself and for all of His Brothers,
Who are not restricted to humankind
But could appear as plant or animal
Or any other form, for he beholds
Them with the Eyes of Love, which overlook
All seeming sins and forgive those who curse
And use Him despitefully, for He is sure
It is but impersonal, universal
Delusion that could seem to threaten Him
And tempt Him to reconsider His way.
This devil He must put behind himself
A hundred, nay, a thousand times a day
Until this false appearance finally
Gives way as shadows do unto the day.