Onto a night-black canvas,
The Master Artist painted
An ever-moving picture.
With skill beyond compare,
He began with tinges of blue,
Then swept wide strokes of pink
With yards of yellow below
And daubed in purple splashes.
He brushed in golden sun
To climb a steady pace
Behind pale clouds of gossamer gray.
He streaked bold strokes of orange
And brightest stripes of cherry red
Above a line of lavender.
He carved a curve of brilliant orb
For amazing luminescence
Amid a glory of color.
The rolling sea below,
Edged in white ruffles,
Mirrored the beauty of the skyscape
In shining tints of reflection.
This Artist of unequaled skill
Framed His amazing masterpiece,
Side to side, with sailing ships
Of softest gray and pink
To sail between islands of white
Into endless blue skies.
He stretched all this magnificence
As far as eye could see.
Surveying the panoramic masterpiece
Of His creation,
The Artist called it “sunrise,”
And He said, “It is good.”
And every morning just as dawn,
He paints the sunrise sky again
In sundry shades and hues,
A surety of His mercies, new each day.
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