The Hand of God
Where can the hand of God be seen in this world of vain ambition?
Is it seen above in the vast cosmos or in a saint’s contrition?
Is it seen in the ebb and flow of tides or the rhyme of a poet’s words?
In the rhythmic seasons of the year, or the strike of a hero’s sword?
Does the mind of God spur the quake, flood, pestilence or famine?
Or turn the heart from selfish pride to bended knee before Him?
Was his the voice upon the mount dispensing law and order?
Is his the whisper in the heart, the reassuring comforter?
Or are all these delusions, images of the mind?
To coin a simple answer in the complex world we find?
Is all just pure statistics, odds and probability?
Or is there a grand design, intelligent creativity?
Certain answers cannot be found through rational debate,
Nor from the science of the day however true or great,
Organic senses have limitations within this mortal realm,
Other senses must be sought and tuned to find the helm.
Whether real or imaginary, these senses do respond,
Consistently and predictably they lead to right from wrong,
They glean from evidence of things we cannot hear or see,
Bringing substance to things hoped for, and faith to set us free.
The building of Temples and the increasing availability of records to discover our families past, for me, are the most evident results of God’s hand at work.