My Sweet Lord!

How does the hymner sing of God's measureless love through quadruplets- Fine craftsman of fields, flowers, fountains of water, mountains, and sun- Who practiced self-denial, till blood sweat, for the honor of thieves apportioning second chances like sweet nectar while He came undone? Why does the scribe pen his worship to the Universal Maker, Compiling pages of effusive love notes for an unseen King? Unobserved by open eyes but recognized by insightful hearts Heeding courtship calls from Christ, Saviour sweet, at the threshold tapping. Where does the artist conceive sweet lines, hues that tell wondrous tales- delicate replicas of the Creator, thoughts color their veins- as prismatic as rainbows post turbulence and wuthering days, so silver linings laid on canvas sprinkle joy for hearts to sail? When do dancers slip from guarded grace to ungirded ecstasy? In the sweet echoes of a recent heartbeat or laughing babies, bustling birdy melodies auguring spring's blessed revival? I shall sharpen my grand jetés for Jesus' triumphant arrival.