To The Calcfulators: If you get to the bottom of it, It may all collapse and kill you. Not that we should not think, Nor let our brains decay for lack of use, But haply that we’d think on simpler things Like rainbows such as shine In mayflies’ wings, Or how his down makes warm The wintering goose. The subtlety of loveliness makes glad. Glad wonder that it should be here at all, And that it is so oft ‘designedly dropped’ To lead our minds in ascent from our fall; And so I lift my eyes up to the hills Whose pure white tops are purpled As with blood, and think how he obeyed His Father’s will. I see His garments there, his loving eyes, As with his little band he strode To bring men paradise. Why, any thought on loveliness Leads somehow up to Him. Oh it shall soon be glorious To sit “enthroned” with Him. And see the crowns of Glory shine On all who have gone home And see those very crowns seem dim By Glory round His Throne; And join the peal of heavenly hymns To sing our thankfulness. To be led into His presence By the thought of Loveliness. Gene Pinkney 2/20/04 © 2006, Gene Pinkney, No portions may be copied without attribution |