God times things well, just like a minuet,
He brings a sequence to events to show
cause and effect, we’re always in His debt,
how He reaps bread from weeds and seeds we sow.
A fallen world we broken people work,
we little sense God leading us in dance,
beside the plow we do not see Him lurk,
coincidizing what we deem as chance.
Dumb as an ox, we dance behind the plow--
if only with our eyes of faith we’d peek
and raise them just above our sweaty brow,
we’d see the art and artist that we seek.
Lord, when I glance at Your dance mastery,
You help me to dance blind with You--and see.
-- by Pete Voelz 1/31/13
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