We cannot feel the solar wind as it races from
or see time stretched out in its wake, or the point when life did start.
We hardly feel our rush through space as we journey on our way,
in a bark called ‘Earth’ we have caught the tide to some great judgment day.
But on this globe and orb of blue at times we feel a wind,
and see three masts on Calvary to remind all men they’ve sinned.
The main is braced and crimson as if marked with stains of war,
then port and starboard warnings for us to sin no more. No mortal knows
from whence the wind may come or how she blows.
It bloweth where it listeth, it stops and then it goes. Each soul is
on this voyage o’r sea of time and space, none knows the cost of portage
to save the human race. I know not just where Heaven is,
that eternal port of call, the times and seasons they are His,
but I know He loves us all. He made us all for more than this, though this
is all we know. There is a harbor, berth, and slip, and to this good place we go.
When God did breathe the breath of life into Adam’s ship of clay,
a wind began to blow called ‘grace’ toward a port many worlds away