Out of the cold and dark and broken, the song starts to rise.
Hopeful notes sprout up in delicate green rhythms, each peeking out above the snow.
Bulbs explode and grasses ascend as daffodils and then tulips add to the melody.
The shoots are small; the buds are brief,
But the notes sing out loud and clear.
The winter is broken.
The songs and seasons You set in place, God,
Reminding of restoration.
The rhythm quickens with life.
Leaves unfurl and sing out as they stretch to gather sun.
Harmonious colors come onto the scene, and creatures liven to greet them.
Foods and blooms of all colors and forms point to the Provider.
Detailed accuracy, order, design.
Vibrant aesthetic, hues, forms.
This beauty only You could create answers our desire,
For both brilliance and reason,
Science and art.
The song swells in thanks as You adorn them all with fitting attire.
As the vibrant colors saturate the crisp landscape—
Flaming reds,
Brilliant yellows,
Grounding purples,
Deep golds,
And glowing oranges—
The volume of the song rises to an undeniable crescendo of magnificence.
And it falls.
It was never meant to stay.
The melody slows and quiets.
The dry, brown forms bow down.
They turn again to dust.
Thank you.
For the drab, empty sticks and failing hues.
Thank you for the bare season of quiet contemplation.
Thank you for colors that fade and disappoint—as they were created to do.
The melody is contemplatively still before the cold comes.
It can’t be denied.
Creation is broken and brief.
As the muddy tones show lack of color and constancy, they hum their reminder—
We are merely the created.
No satisfaction or lasting hope can be held in bare branches.
The former magnificence,
The brief beauty,
Is only a paling reflection of You—the Creator.
The music—just an echo of the praise you deserve.
The created cannot be the keeper of hope.
There is only One who can hold that weight.
Their humble tune of disappointment and death,
Tunes our hearts to see in stark contrast:
The created never measure up to the Giver of Life and Source of Eternal Hope.
You are the great Musician-Creator,
Who placed the music in their hearts,
And gave them voices to sing.
The song was never theirs to keep,
Only a melody to offer up.
Each note in perfect timing reveals You as their Creator—
One who is high above in every way:
Knowledge, power, love, holiness, glory, majesty—complete and constant.
Perfectly lasting.
Eternal beauty.
Amazing grace for our eyes to glimpse and our hearts to know.
My voice joins theirs.
Elohim: Powerful Creator;
Yahweh Tsebaoth: Majesty and Glory to You, Lord of Hosts;
El Olam: The Everlasting God;
The song is Yours alone.