Watching the Sky on a Cold Winter Night

You are God, the Only God, Whose thought became creation.
You are God of all the world – the far, the near, and all that fills between;
The light, the air, the highlands, hills and valleys;
The wind and waves, the sea and sand and shore,
The clouds that race across the winter sky
And build with summer thunder to the edge of space.
You, O God, are God of day’s bright hours,
Of nighttime lit by points of stars, of twilight born of dawn and dusk.
You, O God, are God of sight, of sound, of soft red evenings
Filled with longing, love and loosened cares,
And shining mornings full of hope.
You are God of work, of rest, reflection, sleep and dreams.
More perfectly than any glass, the universe reflects your image.
You numbered galaxies upon the reach of space
Like grains of sand across the desert,
And spread their light from end to end across the deep and endless space
At speeds that no one can imagine.
Tens are raised to powers of ten and raised again by tens of tens,
And still we can’t begin to count the particles of which it all is made,
Each composed of quark and color, spin or charm;
Quantum fluxing, spirits dancing, function waves of probability
Collapsing every time we turn to look, deciding which of endless worlds
Will be the one we live in, which the ones that pass untouched, unseen.
Each and every single one of them, designed and made to do your bidding
Just exactly so, reveals Your might and majesty, and how You live among us.
Of ancient spirits on the earth, and those aborning day to day,
Of single cells and DNA, of trees, of grass, of knowledge, truth and wonder,
Of effort, fortitude and every virtue, You are God.
Of song and dance, and literature, of study, learning, and of love,
Of every good thing that I know, of everything my heart does yearn for
For  those I love and those who love me, You are God.
And You, O God, are my God too, and I your humble creature.
Hear me when I pray to you, and answer me my prayers.
Naught I ask but this, O God, that I and Judy both keep faith,
That Marc and Spring be also touched, and with us hear your whisper;
Feel Your finger on their hearts, Your breath upon their faces.
Touch their minds, O God, and let them feel Your presence.
Show them what is meant by love, and bless them with its bounty.

Gerald Beckman — 1997