Untended and unloved, the earth
Would ravel into tangled void,
But God who drew its filaments
From waste is ceaselessly employed
In spinning frames of time and space
Around our fragile dwelling place.
As days and seasons weave their web
Of warmth and cold, of wet and dry,
The cattle forage for their feed,
And overhead the sparrows fly
Where God keeps count of every one
Whose span is measured by the sun.
The wheel of time entwines the strands
Of death and life we think to be
Our loss and gain, and makes of them
One single thread: eternity.
The lilies of the field know best:
Where God provides, let spindles rest.
by Genevieve Glen, OSB; as printed in the Magnificat, Vol. 11, No. 13
Wow. This hymn writer is so talented! Thank You, Lord, for giving her this gift and for pouring thru her, to all of us, these special graces of insights formed in beauty.