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I
arise to the glory of morning,
Sweet blooms winding everywhere,
A reminder that our precious Jesus,
Dresses the world with such care.
The glory of morning is breathtaking,
Colorful blossoms nodding in the breeze,
Soaking up the bright morning sun,
Producing angular black seeds.
Trumpet shaped little flowers,
Drink of the dew God sends,
Needed moisture to continually twine,
Tree boles around and back again.
From the deepest purple,
To the lightest of blue,
They will bloom until frost,
Presenting a beautiful view.
Ancient is the glory of morning,
Lasting through out all time,
One of God's pretty creations,
Forever it continues to climb.
I pray that I will be as this vine,
Giving beauty for others to see,
If in God's light I will continually grow,
My actions e'er pleasant will be.
Gayle Davisİ
April 18, 2005
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