Summer days and sunsets yellow,

drops of Love fall down to man,

yet still we cower from our Maker,

in every corner that we can.

Plates abound with tables’ riches,

His Provision goes unseen,

mistaking money for his presence

on other posts we seem to lean.

Still our minds make up their stories,

hatred spits from lofty views,

of a life without a Saviour,

from opinions still eschewed.

Yet a gentle power swaying,

lights our hearts at every turn,

underpinning daily living,

as we turn to trust His warmth.

Like gentle swans upon the river,

tilted by the stream’s dear spait,

at every point being lifted higher

Upon his words we trust and wait.

• Fear God
• Love
• Presence
• Trust