The hills stretch back millennia
The seas are older still,And yet they are a passing thought
When compared to Your will.
The stars will burn out in a blink,
And new stars take their place,
But even their bright, burning lives
Merely reflect your face.
I speak the words, they’re meaningless.
I still can’t understand
The power over time and form
Resting within Your hand.
Oh Lord, how far does Your hand reach,
How old your memories,
And how am I to comprehend
Such miracles as these?
Proverbs 8:25
before the mountains were settled in place, before the hills, I was given birth
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