Praise to the Maker who paints with a thought,
spreading and shaping and seeing
oceans of galaxies, islands of life,
measureless wonders of being,
whose purpose, ever good and right,
ranges through realms beyond our sight,
endlessly flowing and freeing.
Praise to the Servant who chooses a clown,
wisdom in folly concealing -
laughable, beautiful Body of Christ,
bungler, and bearer of healing.
With awkward limbs and comic face
we mime the mysteries of grace,
God's pain and glory revealing.
Praise to the Spirit who mends with a song,
quilting and liltingly weaving
peoples and histories, beauty and pain,
wickedness, glory and grieving,
whose healing, love-revealing choice
gives to the Church's answering voice
ballads of joy in believing.
Praise is our destiny, duty and joy,
melting our pride and pretending,
ousting our stubbornness, easing our pain,
failure and folly transcending,
never demeaning, always right,
freeing, fulfilling, love's delight,
gateway to glory unending.