Turning, Churning

The sun comes up each morning

He gently turns the sphere

And watches little nestlings stir

He misses nothing here

And blows upon the dewy grass

And paints with shades of light

While on the other side He brings

The soothing calm of night.

But much of night is trembling

The plagues and rampant war

The hunger, children wandering

As often-time before.

And we see scenes horrendous

Across a stunned front page

And wonder briefly, if at all

Our small part to assuage.

God acts to gain His purpose

But in the world of men

He looks for mercy’s partnership

Ere dawn restores again.

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