He’s there in the eyes of a child, in the laughter of a friend. Wher-
ever people love people and help and care, he is there. He’s there
when we choose to come into his presence. He’s the hand of comfort
that touches us in grief and the surprising joy that comes at unbid-
den moments.
All These and More
He’s all we’ve heard and read of him
The phrases and the words,
The Psalms and hymns and awe-filled songs
The lovely, liquid lines of verse,
The patriarchs, the Pentateuch,
The Proverbs and Epistles,
Creation and captivity,
The hill that led to Calvary,
The crown of thorns, the cross, the nails,
The suffering, the dying King
The spear that drew the crimson blood
The anguished words, “My God, my God”
That echoed through a hell of pain
The battered body quietly laid
Within a borrowed burial grave.
The boulder and the weeping friends,
The silent sound of love’s “amen”
Then when it seemed to end too soon
The open door, the empty tomb!
We see by faith and not by sight
That blurred and bright reality.
We see the one we’ve never met,
106 CLAIRECLONINGER