Praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord God who made heaven and earth!
He took the cool dirt in His hands
pressed it hard until it oozed between His fingers
silver and gold
thick and rich running like syrup
into the thirsty ground.
and the water began to bubble
then gush until all that could be heard
was the sound of many waters.
He clapped His hands
together and then on His knees
faster and faster
the heartbeat heard across the plains.
With their eyes closed
the First Nations felt it.
They knew the buffalo was The Gift.
We give thanks to you, our God, for every good
and perfect gift is from you and though we have wasted it,
you are merciful. You are merciful to forgive
trappers, hunters, those who stripped the land,
and gouged out it's glory , you are merciful.
Forgive us, Lord, for our ancestors
who just did not know
what they were doing.
So He gave us the bitterroot flower
as a memorial for all the tears
sown in our land.
Tears from the railroad,
tears for the prisoners of war, tears
for the pioneer's widows and the howling
wind of the prairie.
He looks at His right arm
and reaches out to give strength
to the land.
He hears the prayers
rising and rising
from a million fires.
Up comes the craggy peaks of the mountains
He is coming.
He straddles the pass and says;
"Be strong and of good courage!"
Look to the hills
from which comes your help!
Your help comes from the Lord
who made heaven and earth."
His eyes roam back and forth
from prairie to peaks
over laughing water and frozen smiles
and He sighs,
"It is good."