God, brilliant Lord, yours is a household name.
Nursing infants gurgle choruses about you; toddlers shout the songs That drown out enemy talk, and silence atheist babble.
I look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous, your handmade sky-jewelry, Moon and stars mounted in their settings.
Then I look at my micro-self and wonder, Why do you bother with us? Why take a second look our way?
Yet we've so narrowly missed being gods, bright with Eden's dawn light.
You put us in charge of your handcrafted world, repeated to us your Genesis-charge,