“Don’t you like the window that we just installed?” He asked when he saw that she wasn’t enthralled “But Gramma the level was perfect” he said But she was certain still shaking her head
“It’s the eye of the artist,” she replied with a grin So he went to the window to check it again Then sure as the sun sets each day in the West His level confirmed it was low on the left
Now, twenty years later I recall with a smile That the work that we did was still off by a mile We just didn’t notice the sag of the sash But the eye of the artist saw all in a flash
And the Artist of Heaven, left His throne room above To come to my window and fix it with love For the eye of the artist sees beyond who I am Then He lifts me up by the blood of the Lamb
For the Son of man came to seek and save the lost. Luke 19:10 NLT
There are bookends that sit on my table With my Bible, and journals and books A tottering row of this thing and that With my thoughts and my dreams in their nooks
Like my opening show on its one end With the years crowded there in between And together they give me reminders Of my soon coming brief closing scene
Yet my heart holds a peace at its center For God promised that I have a place And the one who is writing my chapters Keeps the best for the last by His grace
So, teach us to number our days, That we might get a heart of wisdom Psalm 90:12 ESV
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