To You who controls the world,
How gracious our existence is.
We are marveled small wonders
and You created reality.
If existence itself is quandary
then how vast its Creator?
How wondrous the hand
that leaves these fingerprints.
When all the ages have past
You remained.
History mocks us in secrecy
yet You know full well
each man's breath as it falls.
Such pictures painted in each ancient sunset.
From acorns to oaks, mountains to sand,
You begin and end each temporal gesture.
Burn and erase untold knowledge and beauty
that closed-eyed men have ever reached for.
All of mystery's answers are in You.
The song of Your voice illumined the universe;
All things are crinkled waves
that ripple from Your first gesture.
Graces are continually poured in a cistern
that prepares purifying and wrathful flames.
All songs are love in desperation
before evil's debt is paid.
You dance for the righteous
who have been covered in Your blood.
You weep for the barren
who close their ears and wombs.
Soon rebirth will resound
and all doubt will fade.
Soon Your intent of perfection
will be secured;
once all who desire You
have known of you silently
and will be purified and see Your face.
I have hope in Your song
for Your words will resound again
when grace outpours
and Your wrath completes.
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