“Morning
Has Broken”
“Mine is
the sunlight, mine is the morning,
Born of
the one light Eden saw play.
Praise
with elation, praise every morning,
God's
re-creation of the new day...
I am the
sunrise, warming the heavens,
Spilling
my warm glow over the earth.
Praise for
the brightness of this new morning,
Filling my
spirit with Your great love.”
Eleanor
Farjeon (“Morning Has Broken,” verses 3 & 5, c.1931)
My view from the porch at
sunrise tells me that rain from Hurricane Harvey will make its way to
Alabama in the near future. My thoughts are with Texas this morning,
even as I revel in this gorgeous pink sunrise and the cool morning
breeze. This hymn, one of my favorites, was my first thought when I
walked outside. It's possible that there is even a hint of
fall in the air—always welcome after summer in the Deep South.
Being an inveterate
morning person, this is my spiritual home—early morning, sunrise,
birdsong, dancing leaves, and breezes. What, I wonder, brings that
feeling of spirit-filling to night-owls. I have laid with my back on
the earth at Block Island in the dark of night, and viewed the wide
swath of the Milky Way spread across the sky, billions of stars deep.
That was a transcendent experience. I have stood on the top of
Double-Oak mountain with my young sons while meteors showered down
like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I have stopped my car on the
side of the road to view the rising of the Harvest Moon. I have stood
on a beach in Costa Rica and watched a vermilion sun drop into the
roiling Pacific. All these were awe inspiring moments. But every
single day, there is this—this sunrise, this birdsong, this dancing
of leaves. Nothing better.
I wonder about you. What
time of day refuels your soul? Where do you feel closest to your
Creator. I'm guessing it isn't in a cathedral, or a mosque, or a
temple. I'll bet it's under the dome of Father Sky, in the embrace of
Mother Earth—the source of our strength, and the ground of our
being.
In the Spirit,
Jane
No comments:
Post a Comment