To My Selfless King

Sitting in my room alone,
Looking around myself.
I see my clothes, desk, and bed,
And books upon the shelf.

I'm blessed to have these things,
That occasionally clutter the floor.
I say a prayer of gratitude,
Then venture out my door.

Mom and dad call my in,
For devotion time.
We sit and pray with family thus,
A feeling so sublime.

In the hall I'm tackled down,
By my brothers with a 'ROAR!'
We fall down in a wiggling heap,
Laughing on the floor.

I set out on a quiet walk,
Around my neighborhood.
The air is cold, crisp and damp,
And smells of burning wood.

The leaves of brilliant colors,
Are swirling all around.
With gentle breeze they twirl and dip,
In a dance toward the ground.

The mountains on the horizon,
Majestically keep their stance.
The evergreens stand eternally,
And sway as in a trance.

The overwhelming beauty,
Must be by design.
In humility I give thanks,
For nature's things and mine.

A house therein to abide,
Supplied with all I need.
Yet my King came to much less,
Born amongst the feed.

What can I do thank He,
Who born in nothing, gave everything?
He bestowed all that's mine to me,
In return, this I will sing:

A song of praise to the one,
Who died to let me live.
I'm humbled by the thought,
Of all that He did give.

I come with all I have,
With all my soul to sing,
Of a love and gratitude.
A song to my selfless King.

~ Catherine Stevens