Volume > Issue > Praise

Praise

A POEM

By Lorraine Bochler Eshleman | July August 1986

Oh endless pattern in the trees.

You weave a world for me

Of endless beauty, endless art,

Of endless mystery.

You are a symphony, a stage,

A master’s work of art.

You have no words, still all you say

Lies deepest in my heart.

Oh God, Your hand is everywhere —

Your stroke against the sky

Outlines a joy that breaks my heart

And begs my spirit fly.

It beckons me and beckons me

And wounds me with its glee,

And I will worship You, Great God,

’Til moons shall part the sea.

Parting

Let the air be taken from me;

Let no water touch my tongue.

Though my…

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