I see the penmanship of God each time
   I look up to the canopy of blue
The sun, the birds in flight, the downy clouds
   All legibly describe my Father, too.

I see His works in fountains of the deep,
   The fish both large and small that play therein,
The great ships as they ride the boistrous waves,
   The artistry of wind and tide and fin.

I find myself dumbfounded and in awe
   Whenever I look one rose in the face,
What beauty, what symmetry and what bliss
   To find fragrance and art = all in one place.

I hold a baby's tiny hand in mine
   And marvel at the very gift of life,
Content I am to know that this great God
   Can speak His peace amidst both din and strife.

Then as my eyes stretch forth their sights at night
   They scarcely can begin to comprehend
The lamps of God on skies of velvet black,
   The numbering of which would have no end.

The strength and majesty of mountains tall,
   Each crystal raindrop tolling like a bell
Renews within me that great certainty
   That my God is indeed alive and well.

          -  Georgia B. Adams