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Lord, if I could capture
with pallet, paint and brush
the glorious golden colour
as You gently lift the sun
over blue-gray, misty mountains;
The picture would fade.
If I could announce the daybreak
with birdsong jubilant,
in harmonious perfection,
and in the rustling morning breeze
joyfully dance like autumn leaves;
The song would end.
If I could hold and treasure
within these tiny hands of mine,
Your magnificent creation,
a splash, a hint of every colour,
the wondrous splendour I behold;
Only I can't.
All glory, praise and thanks to Thee
oh Lord, for making me,
a creature with a soul and heart,
senses and emotions,
a lowly, yet significant part
of all I'm blessed to see.
Butterfly.
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