Woodland Praise

The high sun through the pine trees pours

to the ground beneath my feet,

raising gateways and old ancient doors

as the woodland sings whom it adores—

where an earthy drone is sweet.

The grove I walk in magnificence,

itself, will align to praise;

glory, admiration, one can sense,

even stones will cry the difference—

highest name the iced boughs raise.

I will kneel at the altar by the brook,

in this lofty, high cathedral,

praying praises for the path He took.

On destruction, I will never look—

mercy blood atoned for all.

Oh, to walk where my Creator deems

in the woods that lift His name!

From stalwart groves to mirthful streams,

the woodland realm is praise that teems—

thankfulness to Christ exclaim.

By him therefore let us offer

the sacrifice of praise to God continually,

that is, the fruit of our lips

giving thanks to his name.

But to do good and to communicate forget not:

for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.

Hebrews 13:15-16