by Bethel McGrew

Glory be to God
For shooting stars
And strong sons, striding
Across an open sky
Of unfurled grace.
For great hearts that could not
Rest
Until they found their rest in Him.
Glory be
To the one who heals the broken
To the one who breaks the saint.
Glory be to the Father
Who stoops to gather fallen soldiers
And rock them in the arms
That rock the sea.
Glory be to the Son
Who bids men come and wrestle,
Who stretches out his wounded hand
And leaves them with a limp.
Glory be to the Spirit
Who breathes into our empty lungs 
The breath of life.
To the one who counts our yesterdays
Our todays
And our tomorrows
As but a little span
And raises us to life eternal
Be all glory forever.
Amen

Bethel McGrew is a high school math teacher living in Michigan. She is also a widely published freelance writer, with essays in many outlets such as Plough, First Things and The Spectator. Her poetry has previously appeared at North American Anglican.