Above us marks the glory of unending skies of space.
A painting with its stroking, of the unseen hand of grace.
It’s form becomes a picture, when the brush waves o’er its place
Of the one who first brought life to them, when he framed it in its case.
Soon the clouds will not just give form, for these particles they trace.
They will roll back wide and present to all the sight of God’s redeeming face.