Bless the Lord!

I just read this poem, and wanted to share it.

The Scribe

What lovely things

   Thy hand hath made:

The smooth-plumed bird

   In its emerald shade,

The seed of the grass,

   The speck of stone

Which the wayfaring ant

   Stirs—and hastes on!

Though I should sit

   By some tarn in thy hills,

Using its ink

   As the spirit wills

To write of Earth’s wonders,

   Its live, willed things,

Flit would the ages

   On soundless wings

Ere unto Z

   My pen drew nigh;

Leviathan told,

   And the honey-fly:

And still would remain

   My wit to try—

My worn reeds broken,

   The dark tarn dry,

All words forgotten—

   Thou, Lord, and I.

-- Walter De La Mare

Also this incredible song by Matt Redman.  It's so beautiful.