A Hunterís Prayer
by Rick Scarborough
Who but the Lord could conceive of the forest
Paradoxically foreboding and serene
Comprised of thorns and trees and vines
A sanctuary for man to redeem
The sanity of peace in world often filled
With noise, disharmony and pain
As the sun bursts forth on an autumn day
I am reminded of my temporal frame
Who am I in Godís grander scheme?
And why do men lift so high
Their meager and few accomplishments,
When Godís reaches to the sky?
While I watch the sunrise of a glorious dawn
Eagerly hoping to take a prize
The day breaks forth with a collection of nature
Whose voices together rise
As one in harmony with the God of creation
A concert of worship they raise
Creatures on cue for the wand of their creator
Offer up glorious praise.
Two deer pass by on the forest floor
In a ritual known as rut
I catch a glimpse, my heart beats fast
I clutch my rifle, but
They disappear again in the forest
Gone for at least today
But the thrill they bring to this hunterís heart
Is greater than words can say
I know that God has favored me
As a blessed and chosen son
Because I know with intimacy
Godís Anointed One
He chose me long before I knew
A thing about His grace.
He purchased me with own blood
When He died for the human race.
We like to flatter ourselves with thoughts
That we have chosen Him
But the fact remains that on the cross
He chose to die for sin
Then rose again and called a few
Sent from town to town
Until one day the Good news came
and I, so lost, was found.
Now every day is a new adventure
Whether I work or play or pray
Even when I go out hunting
Itís for him I live each day
If I could impart one word to you
Who happen to read this prose
Life is for Jesus and nothing else
Take him wherever you go.
My greatest joy in all of life
Is found when I take the time
To be still and know that He is Lord
And allow Him to fill my mind
When that occurs it brings me peace
And confidence that I
Can face the stiffest test of all
Even watching a loved one die
Iím reminded as the sparrow sings
And the Hawk floats in the skies
That Kathrynís spirit now soars in Heaven
And that only the temporal dies.