I am not particularly religious, but I do consider nature, in all its manifestations, to be a miracle. It matters little to me if God made it, if it sprang from primordial soup and evolved, or if God stirred the soup. What we find when we are born into life is nothing short of miraculous. As Albert Enstein so clearly stated:
“There are only two ways to live our life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” — Albert Einstein
To become a child again is to shake off the overwhelming conditioning of our culture, of our times. It is to open one’s senses and see things absolutely fresh and new. Thus, I have no problem standing next to a brook in the forest at dawn in June, drinking in the beauty and feeling absolute wonder at all that I see and hear. And I have no trouble singing the following words because they reflect my sentiment, my awe, and my reverance for all the life before me.
I hope you enjoy my tremulous melodic mutterings (it is very difficult to sing without any musical accompaniment; so personal, exposed, naked). Oh, I almost forgot – here are the lyrics of this well-known hymn, made famous by Cat Stevens (from Wikipedia):
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the Word.
Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass.
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s recreation of the new day.