Interface

This face You made so many years ago,
each day looks forward toward the world You made;
what is the interface only You know,
in this great sea of grass, who is this blade?

You made this face to look this way with care,
my face somehow is more Your face than mine;
atop this head You've counted every hair,
behind this face You stamped Your face divine.

Beyond, You've made a space for me to work,
and led me to what You want me to do;
my task and place You weave let me not shirk,
but give it back as offering to You.

You've done this all, O God, for me with grace,
so will I try ‘til we meet face to face.

                             -- by Pete Voelz        12/06