Raven night, you serve the beacon, hanging a coal canvas for its brilliant beam of hopes to navigate what is lost.
Yawning pit, you serve the water well, surrendering the deep that scales its walls to quench my parched soul.
Savage sun, you serve the shade tree, beating mercilessly upon it as it casts shadow for my weariness.
Humble valley, you serve the summit, granting obscure perspective that extorts my soul to ascend and glory in the heights.
Flaming fire, you serve the precious gold; your blazing rage brings fevered perfection and renders me pure and rich.
Inescapable death, you ever cruelly serve my life, making luscious the most bleak and mundane, with your bitter affairs.
Rugged cross, you served my suffering Savior: You upheld the broken body; you displayed the lurid scene, that fulfilled Calvary on my behalf.