thank You for the gift of sight,
to see the world so that I might
view all the things that You create,
a universe both small and great.
“Just wait, My son,” You look at me,
“the things in Heaven that you’ll see.
This beauty can’t be put to paint;
the colors here have no constraint.
Your eyes will open finally
to view the timeless jubilee.”
thank You for the gift to hear,
to listen to the sounds so dear
that strike my ears so beautifully,
the range of this world’s tone and key.
“Just wait, My son,” You whisper low,
“the splendid noise you’ll come to know
as angels, saints and seraphim
raise up their voice in one great hymn.
No earthly instrument can play
the songs we’ll sing, the things we’ll say.
thank You for the gift of touch,
a tender kiss I cherish much.
The many things that brush my skin
from rough and thick to soft and thin.
“Just wait, My son,” You hold my hand,
“you’ll feel your heart grow and expand
to touch the essence of My love
that both transcends and rise above
this tactile world surrounding you;
embrace the Word and feel brand new.
thank you for the gift of smell,
so many odors I can’t tell
from nature and from city scents
and subtle things from years long spent.
“Just wait, My son,” Your fragrance sweet,
“the bouquet here is so complete,
it’s richness you just can’t compare;
it permeates the very air,
reminding you My love is pure;
just breathe it in and you’ll be sure.”
thank you for the gift of taste,
for kisses dear and feasts embraced.
I know that You provide the food,
both sweet and bitter, bold and subdued.
“Just wait, My son,” You give me wine,
“Far greater things I’ll have you dine;
the banquet Heaven gives to you
will fill your spirit through and through,
and once you taste My drink and meat,
your appetite will be complete.”
You hold me in Your arms and say,
“Your senses here will soon decay,
temporal life is here and gone,
the dusk will come as sure as dawn.
These things are gifts by My pure Grace
for you to seek each hidden place
for every one of My lost sheep
who’ve strayed away and gone asleep.
If you believe and hope and pray
upon My Son you will some day
use all your senses for My Will
to tell the lost I love them still.
Your work will glorify My name
and glorify Jesus just the same
and when your senses all do fade
and when at last your body’s laid
into the earth, why, then you’ll see
such wonders you’ll cry out in glee.
Just wait, my own adopted son,
now run the race and know you’ve won.