Sing to the King of creation!
Rejoice in His mighty right Hand.
Holy and perfect, O praise Him!
Our Light in this sin-darkened land.
God spoke and our world existed,
Created with simple command,
Sculpted the sea, the stars and the trees,
Breathed life into earthís first man.
With each of my days clearly numbered,
And purpose ordained for my life,
God knit me together in secret,
A miracle birthed into light.
His passion's planted deep in my soul,
Firm rooted, yet only a seed
Nourished and tended, lavished in love,
Allowed trials to see my own need.
When storm clouds gather around me,
And darkness devours the sun,
When options dry up and crumble
And I cry in despair, ďIím done!Ē
When morning brings only more anguish,
And dawn seems as dark as the night,
Even then can I not praise my Maker
For His majesty, power and might?
My God hasnít changed in that moment.
He hasnít forsaken His child.
Yet He who spoke order from chaos
Is allowing this pain for awhile.
Only when my strength is ebbing
When Iím weary and mired in pain,
Only then can God gentle my spirit
And ignite my small faith into flame!
So sing to the King of creation,
Mysterious, holy and wise,
Whose thoughts we canít even fathom,
Whose ways weíll never surmise.
For how can I not praise my Maker,
For His majesty, power and might,
For His Infinite, Holy, unending love,
And this beautiful gift of life?
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