The Title of Creation’s Song

A bleary eye peeked through earth’s veil

To gnaw a meager glance beyond

The gaudy rouge and sore travail

That marked its body’s tethered bond,

To gaze on men redeemed.

 

A widened eye now drank the scene

That seemed a pungent revelry:

A host of saints- awed, praising, clean

Raised high the chorus of the free

In worship to their God

 

While deep below their Lord-washed feet

Another chorus gnashed and groaned.

Their tune of torment droned a beat

To pay and pay yet not atone

For crimes against their God.

 

The moistened eye then turned away,

For liquid questions blurred its sight.

How dare the children of the day

Not mourn the offspring of the night?

Praise seemed a callous song.

 

That mortal eye, though straining long,

Could never pierce what veil obscured.

Though marking both eternal songs,

Their joint refrain hummed soft and sure

With lyrics hard to grasp.

 

One looming day the eye would blink

And waken in eternity

With ears restored to hear in sync

What flesh suppressed with earth’s debris.

There peals the chorus strong.

 

“All glory to the Lord on High,”

Chimes truth from high and hell as one,

“His grace the pardoned testify,

“His wrath the guilty hide from none,

“His power all convey.

 

“Look, look upon the mighty Lord!

“What lesser could arrest your sight?

“His glory sounds with one accord

“From clay both shattered and aright.

”There rings no dissonance.”

 

Where faith is sight and Word is seen

All men and angels know this song

That fills creation’s symphony-

Its name, the purpose to the throng:

“The Glory of the Lord.”

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