Morning Mercies

What have I Lord, but what Your grace has freely blessed to me?

This patch of sunshine earth that spins, hurtling through space,

the slowly dawning mind fuzz warmth of waking with the light,

the crunch of buttered toast, the yolky run of breakfast eggs,

the multi-swirl of colored leaves, the tingling sting of fall.

What do I, Lord, but what your grace enables me to do?

The crying child by the porch, the one I stopped and helped,

the scripture lesson I could teach and not break down in tears,

the compliment that I received, and by your grace forgot…

cascading mercies: taken, used, and barely thought again.

What can I know but what your grace has gifted me to know?

The gleaming verse, unseen before, a ruby ray of light,

the faith re-gifted every day, the same and yet unused,

the satisfaction all my life is walking toward the gate

that swings aside, and beckons onward, further up and in.


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