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.