Monday, June 17

I sit atop a ledge looking out over the city. A cool breeze makes its presence know by gentle persuasion, the night sky reveals wisps of clouds and the twinkle of far off stars. In the distance a cicada joins a cricket in natures complex melody, a symphony of sights and sounds. The coming of autumn draws nigh.

On this night I contemplate the majesty of God’s creation, the wondrous beauty of His handiwork, the vastness of His universe, and I feel that it is small when compared to the height of his mercy and the depth of His love. Who can describe such things, I cannot. I would speak of poetry and music, but they fall short in my hands of expressing what my hearts knows to be true. On this night, far from here in the heart of Africa, His glorious name is praised. All men will praise Him, else the rocks would cry out for the emptiness. It is true, the heavens declare His glory, and the autumn declares it best.


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