I count my blessings as they come each day;

I count the morning-sun and each coloured-ray.

When, at night, the moon and stars do shine;

I gaze into the heavens and I count them as mine.

I count the rainbow-colours as my blessings, too;

Each drop of rain that fell had something to do.

I count my flowers, dressed in colours galore,

The lush-green grass in Summer, as I stand at my door.

I count the many-coloured leaves, in Autumn, as they fall;

In Winter, tiny snowflakes are a blessing over all.

Their blanket keeps the bitter-cold from everything;

Blessings come when tiny buds appear in the Spring.

I count my blessings from Heaven above;

For Angels around me showing God's great love.

I weed the garden of my mind each day,

Keeping weeds of ill-repute well away.

To count my many blessings doesn't seem like much,

Why then, do I feel my Saviour's gentle touch?

He suffered on that rugged-cross to show me the way

Eternal life is there for all when we walk with Him each day.

And so I count my blessings - each and every one;

They far out-number what I think might weigh a ton.

The burden is always lifted so I can only see

The many-coloured blessings that He gives to me.

Joan Adams Burchell
February 23, 2005


Inspirational Poetry