Miracle Maker

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Miracle Maker

Sonnet

Sweet is the breath, sweet is each thought,
Upon love’s flaming limbs am upward borne,
How hath Thou in time this miracle wrought,
From raw barren desert an oasis has grown!

My erstwhile prosaic words strung to melody,
My heart turns a fount of cascading songs
Many moons of gladness sway on mind’s sky
I soar within freed by my soul-skylark’s wings

Such a revel is there even in Thy faint preludes
O Miracle Maker, blessed is the day Thou didst
Plant Thy feet upon this earth’s forlorn ways,
Now our days and nights are forever blessed!

Make me every man, and woman and flower and bird,
I shall sing a hymn from each in Thy spheres to be heard!