A Poem, By Joy Aletheia Stevens
Let me count Your gifts to me,
Life and breath, humanity,
Your Beauty, glory, Your presence be,
And the grace that, from sin, sets me free.
Let me count the gifts You bring,
A heart to praise, a voice to sing,
And the winds and rains that, thunderous, ring,
As creation brings its offering.
Count the water that flows down,
Count the hair upon my crown,
Count the clothes and warmth they give,
Count the shelter at which I live.
Count the smiles and shining eyes,
Count the words full of love and wise,
Count the hearts that love me true,
And every hand that points to You.
Every day of a child’s tender years,
Every time I get to wipe away her tears,
Every snuggle, and every fall,
And every time I get to show her the wonders of all!
Count the carpet at my feet,
Count each need that You meet,
Every crumb of bread I’ve tried,
Every time a persons arms opened wide.
Count the riches, count the gold,
Not the kind that one gets to hold,
But rather all that Your will unfolds,
As my story, by You is told.
I’ll count the blessings and gifts from You,
So that my heart will cleave to what is true,
That all I need is met in You,
So count the gifts, and the Gift is You.
And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you- you of little faith? But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Matthew 6:28-30,33