Holy Ground

One trait that the kids and Carlos share is the ability to hear the same song over and over if they like it. I burn out pretty quickly, so I try to only buy the kids CDs that I don't mind hearing repeatedly. Thankfully, their current favorite is also one of mine, the old hymn This Is My Father's World, with lyrics by Maltbie D. Babcock (think of how much he must have overcome, with a name like Maltbie! That's even worse than Clive Staples, in my opinion. But I digress.). I love the reminder that God is always speaking to us. I find it so much easier to listen when I am surrounded by the beautiful world He has made--another good reason for us to try to preserve its beauty. Everywhere we walk is holy ground. Here is Maltbie's lovely poem:

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.

This is my Father’s world, dreaming, I see His face.
I ope my eyes, and in glad surprise cry, “The Lord is in this place.”
This is my Father’s world, from the shining courts above,
The Beloved One, His Only Son,
Came—a pledge of deathless love.

This is my Father’s world, should my heart be ever sad?
The lord is King—let the heavens ring. God reigns—let the earth be glad.
This is my Father’s world. Now closer to Heaven bound,
For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.
No place but is holy ground.

This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.
In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.
This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roam
Whate’er my lot, it matters not,
My heart is still at home.