My heart dwells in the rhythms
Of all the ancient days.
The sunsets and the winds that blow
Across the level plains.
My heart is held in rapture
When I hear the eagle cry.
I'm thankful that I've come to know
My Lord, on high ...
Not a 'great spirit', off somewhere,
That rides upon the winds;
Not the 'spirit' of the sun
But, He Who lowly bends ...
To kiss my face and hold me
When the night comes tumbling down
And sees me, always, with a smile;
Never wears a frown.
I cannot see the why He came
When I am only dust.
But, lowly cast in earth's domain,
It seemed to be a must.
Now, while I'm growing in Your truth,
Make even less of me
And fill me, Holy Spirit, with
The heart and soul of Thee!
İİ 2004 by Joan Clifton Costner
http://underhiswings0.tripod.com
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