I'm repeating this poem because it's one of the few I have written for the Season...
Infant Artistry
Bach, pausing on his clavichord, listened in awe.
Caravaggio, through tearful eye, laid down his pallete.
Michelangelo, with shaking hands, could barely follow the curvatures;
As they beheld their Incarnated Creator/Saviour,
...Crying in an ox trough,
Clothed in human rags,
Shaping sounds, sights and forms-
Infinitely beyond their created /creative imaginations
...and ours.
According to the grace given to us, we have different gifts: If prophecy, use it according to the proportion of one’s faith; if service, use it in service; if teaching, in teaching; if exhorting, in exhortation; giving, with generosity; leading, with diligence; showing mercy, with cheerfulness. (Rom 12:6-8)
Infant Artistry
Bach, pausing on his clavichord, listened in awe.
Caravaggio, through tearful eye, laid down his pallete.
Michelangelo, with shaking hands, could barely follow the curvatures;
As they beheld their Incarnated Creator/Saviour,
...Crying in an ox trough,
Clothed in human rags,
Shaping sounds, sights and forms-
Infinitely beyond their created /creative imaginations
...and ours.
According to the grace given to us, we have different gifts: If prophecy, use it according to the proportion of one’s faith; if service, use it in service; if teaching, in teaching; if exhorting, in exhortation; giving, with generosity; leading, with diligence; showing mercy, with cheerfulness. (Rom 12:6-8)
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