A Poem based on Psalm 8

If I had a thousand years 
To walk the earth and search the spheres,
There would not be a sweeter sound
Than that of Jesus to be found.

If I had a thousand more
To search the world from shore to shore,
A greater glory there’d not be
Than that of His I’ve yet to see.

He uses sweetest baby babbles
To devil plots crush into shambles,
And lisps from nursing infants small
To foil the plans of satan’s all. 

See midnight under velvet sky,
With million diamonds sparkling high?
Beauty made with Wisdom’s hands
My awed mind can’t understand.

This Creator on man thinks,
Places him near to angels’ brink,
And blesses lowly, humble heads,
With glory, crown, and honor best.

God made him ruler most complete;
Placed all beneath unholy feet.
Lord of birds and fish and sheep
Though man unworthy proved to be.

Descants ring from heav’n and land, 
“How excellent the Creator's hands;”
There surely will no sweeter sound
Be than Jesus’ name found.