God paints the path for rising sun
With filigrees of gold
Across expanse of blackest night.
What wonder to behold!
His painting wonít have moon or stars;
Their faces will they hide.
They canít outshine the radiance
When day comes to abide.
Oíer rows of curves and triangles,
Great mountains still asleep,
God streaks a line of lavender;
With pink He makes a sweep.
The Master Artist smudges in
Some luminescent gray.
No earthly craftsman ever could
Such loveliness portray.
He brushes azure all around
And daubs in puffs of white.
The clouds that play in heavenís fields
Are an enchanting sight.
He glides the gilded globe to His
And sets the golden ball as watch,
A guard at heavenís gate.
He colors rays of richest reds
To glisten on earthís green
And sparkles beads of brilliance in
Reflected oceanís gleam
This picture that our Lord designed
For all the world to see
Is foretaste of forever day
In His eternity.
His masterpiece thatís all aglow
With light ethereal
Will pale to Jesus as He shines,
Our King Imperial.
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