God of such artistry, conveys messages,
in the skies, does our Heavenly host,
As angels brush words of encouragement,
all of the ones that do mean the most.
Words transcribed from His own desires,
of the Lord's own palette in the sky.
Every stroke denotes His loving care,
accompanying a wind's sweet lullaby.
When a canvas is red, trying times ahead,
for He prepares all His children well.
No matter how grave or strenuous to be,
He warns his own, always does so tell.
Our Father has made us to be so strong,
under His care, where we each belong,
In times of stress, spending time in prayer,
His helping to make right, every wrong.
His canvas of blues, help set the mood,
telling us that all will soon be just fine.
These beautiful renderings do promote joy,
and all are of His very own paradigm.
The angel's strokes convey His thoughts,
as each one is derived from His mind,
Spread in wonder all across the skies,
and these each of His very own design.
The suns warming light to serve the day,
by the moon, on those darkest of nights.
The heavens all sing of His precious love,
revealed in His finest, all of these sights.
The pain and hurt that any one might feel,
all may be washed away in colors of gold,
For our own creator has made us, everyone,
close to His heart, where all He does hold.