Sunday Psalm

Lord of the dance,

roll out the sun

and its shine.

Light up the scape

with nervous pastels

furrowing spring breezes.

Let the arias raise

like winged praise

above the seams.

Take our hand,

glide us, lead us,

light on our feet.

Till our dormant hearts.

Water us down to the

tip of our roots.

Guide us to the

updrafts of Your glory,

to float on Your praise.

You are the Lord

of the dance.

Sweep us up.

2 thoughts on “Sunday Psalm

  1. When I lived in western Michigan we used to say, “When the clouds of total depravity stop rolling off Lake Michigan and the sun once more shines through, then spring has arrived in all its glory.

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