May 8, 2001


Echoes of The Glory


there is of Him an echo within all that is

silent and relentless proclaiming His glory

regardless opposition, careless of time

from the insignificance of specks and atoms

to the insignificance of the star spread sky

and between them both, man, unknowing

yet rendering even his maker praise



there is no escaping He whose hand the heavens

tossed as seed from out the sowers palm

about this incredible expanse of nothing

so much room in which to grow

so little place from which to hang

no peg upon which to fix and stay

but upon His word that even now



we cant but see our greatest work

has within it His foundation

our smallest smallness His power belies

our greatest greatness His strength subsides

where can we go that He is not

what can we think He has not thought

our every deed His own



Echoes of The Glory
A poem by Peter Rhebergen

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