There are miracles unfathomed
In every little thing:Who chose the colors leaves would turn
And taught the birds to sing?
What makes the river, fresh and sweet,
Spill into ocean’s salt?
Why are some mountains robed in green
While others show each fault?
Who picked the petals for each bloom
And tucked them on the stem?
Why do the mushrooms, bright and red,
Grow when the world’s most grim?
Who laid the plans for each of these,
And formed them with his hand?
Who could have known so many things
That we don’t understand?
What mighty force of will and mind
Worked with each small aspect
So that each part fit in its place
With no flaw to detect?
We look for miracles profound
His glories to proclaim,
But I find it’s the little things
Which justify His name!
Psalm 147:5
5 Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit.
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