Waters of life

Let waters break.
Through thirsting ache,
Through labour quake
All former life forsake, remake:
O my soul, wake!

Let deep wells spring.
Quench, heal sin's sting,
Refreshment bring;
Ascend to heaven on fountain's fling.
O my soul, sing!

Let rapids roar.
From glacier thaw
to sea's furore
Their shouts of rich exuberance pour:
O my soul, soar!

Last week, I paused on the Mill Bridge on the way to church. The river was in spate and I took a few moments to observe the thunderous, turbulent waters. It was a brief moment of exhilaration, captured on this short video clip.

Today, recalling that experience, I started to write a poem - the first draft is below.

It may not be complete, polished, or even particularly good. What matters is being aware of and open to the moments of transcendence in daily life, when the veil between the everyday and the eternal parts. At such times (so often ignored or passed by), we glimpse something of the glory of God through his creation - and the experience reverberates with the spirit within us, inspiring us to reflect through our own lives the wonders of creation and creativity.

The author of Psalm 93 clearly stopped to reflect on the power of water:
'The floods have lifted up, O Lord, 
the floods have lifted up their voice: 
the floods lift up their pounding.
But mightier than the sound of many waters, 
than the mighty waters or the breakers of the sea,
the Lord on high is mighty.'

When were you last aware of being inspired? When did you last stop to observe the beauty and wonder of what lies around - whether that be the tiniest insect or most fragile plant clinging to life in an inhospitable urban environment, or one of the great natural wonders of the world, or something in between the two?

Is Lent a time to learn to walk observantly, to see with the spirit as well as with the eye, to open the shutters of our minds to the wonder and beauty around us?