He is part of every wind that sweeps
Across the furrows, down their upturned length.
Breathe deeply of it-here is where God keeps
Stored healing and stored strength.

Wander awhile down some still wooded way;
Stoop to the lichen, dig through the mossy sod,
Stir in the leafmold-and the feathery spray
Of a fern can show you God.

You can touch Him as you touch the bark of a tree;
You can hear His voice in the voice of the singing birds.
Dear God, may we listen-God may we look and see
Thy face, and hear thy words.

Author Unknown