Thursday, May 30, 2013

Spring - God Visits the Earth

The lowering mottled gray of the sky broke at sunset last night and glory
spilled over the sullen landscape while the evening breeze, laden with the
scent of a late spring thunderstorm, swept the tree-tops with his sultry
breath.  The sky rained in purply gold and every drop was a living jewel,
every sundry puddle a limpid mirror that cast back the flame of the western
sun and every stretch of road was a paved highway of burnished gold.

Everything is green now... that deep livid green of summer.  The fields and
woods and hills are overflowing with it.  The world is all emeralds and
vermilions and deep olives and iridescent viridians and verdant glowing
yellow-green.  We dig and plant and till and weed, but there is only One who
can "make it come alive."

Psalm 65
Praise is due to you, O God, in Zion,
and to you shall vows be performed.
O you who hear prayer,
to you shall all flesh come.
When iniquities prevail against me,
you atone for our transgressions.
Blessed is the one you choose and bring near,
to dwell in your courts!
We shall be satisfied with the goodness of your house,
the holiness of your temple!
By awesome deeds you answer us with righteousness,
O God of our salvation,
the hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the farthest seas;
the one who by his strength established the mountains,
being girded with might;
who stills the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves,
the tumult of the peoples,
so that those who dwell at the ends of the earth are in awe at your signs.
You make the going out of the morning and the evening to shout for joy.
You visit the earth and water it;
you greatly enrich it;
the river of God is full of water;
you provide their grain,
for so you have prepared it.
You water its furrows abundantly,
settling its ridges,
softening it with showers,
and blessing its growth.
You crown the year with your bounty;
your wagon tracks overflow with abundance.
The pastures of the wilderness overflow,
the hills gird themselves with joy,
the meadows clothe themselves with flocks,
the valleys deck themselves with grain,
they shout and sing together for joy.

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