A Hymn to the Creator

Morning Glory,  Starlit Sky,
Leaves in Springtime,  Swallows flight.
Autumn winds,  Tremendous Seas,
Sounds and scents of summers night.
Soaring music,  Towering words,
Arts perfection, Scholars truth,
Joy Supreme of human Love,
Memories Treasure, Grace of Youth.
Open Lord, are these thy gifts,
Gifts of love to mind and sense,
Hidden in Loves' agony,
Loves' endeavour, Loves' expense.
Love that gives, gives ever more,
Gives with zeal, with eager hands,
Keeps not, spares not, all outpours,
Ventures all, it's all expends.
Drained is love in making full,
Bound in setting others free,
Poor in making many rich,
Weak in giving power to be.
Therefore, He who Thee reveals,
Hangs, O Father, on that tree,
Helpless, and the nails and thorns
(Tell of human cruelty, tell more)
of what Thy Love must be.
Thou art God, no monarch
Thou Enthroned in easy state to reign.
Thou are God, whose arms of Love
Aching,  Spent, the world sustain.

(William Vanstone. Loves Endeavour, Loves Expense)