Seeking

I searched the leafy woodland trails
I searched among the trees
But did not find Him hiding there
Or heard Him in the breeze
But knowing what was in that place
And what His Hands would make
So seeking Him with hope, my heart
Would finally awake.

And farther still He drew me in
Toward the mountainside
I looked toward the misty peaks
Expecting Him to stride
From out the mist to show Himself
But that was not to be
All I could see was magic Hands
Or so it seemed to me.

Was I to worship what He made
When I should worship Him?
Was I sidetracked by visual treats
And singing nature's hymn?
But slowly realisation dawned
The Maker I must seek
To seek the Giver, not the gift
The footsteps of the Meek.

But seeking Him, it is my goal
For He alone would be
The King of all, who leads me on
To greater glories see
For all that nature gives to man
Is only His to show
But nothing greater than His Life
He gave so long ago.

Book by Paul Purday

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