Look there! O, Lord, Thy work I see,
My Master, Great Creator.
Sunlight skipping ‘cross the creek,
Soft mosses still the forest,
Waves’ patterns on the sandy shore,
Spring’s promise in each flower. My heart’s enthralled yet saddened, too,
For shrinking is Thy canvas.
Man’s blight is wide upon the land,
The evidence, in nature.