Blessings
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
(copyright)
