I walk among the meadows,
grasses deep and shiny green.
Wildflowers paint the landscape,
none so fair I've ever seen.
As I take in all this beauty,
my breath's near taken 'back,
To think of the Creator, all He's made,
there is no lack.
For He can paint the meadows,
wash them clean with heavenly rain,
And He can take a hurting soul
and bind up all its pain.
He can take the vilest life
and cleanse it for His pleasure.
He can take the coldest heart
and warm it beyond measure.
A broken spirit He accepts,
a contrite heart He'll mend
If we'll but give our lives to Him
and all our burdens rend.
He'll paint our lives anew, afresh,
with colors brightly shining.
Our lives once dark, in pain so drear'
will glisten with refining.
~ Lynda Bryan Davis
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all His benefits.
Ps. 103:2
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