The Painter painted sunsets
His brush a sword unsheathed
That cut the canvas wide with color
And mended hearts with peace
But his studio was silent
His gallery lacked applause
And few people ever bought them
But the glory all was God’s
The Plumber plumbed till sundown
His arms were iron bars
That flexed the chaos into order
And cured many anxious hearts
But his profession won no laurels
His colleagues dreamed of other jobs
And few people ever thanked him
But the glory all was God’s
The Poet penned sweet sonnets
His ink an ocean’s depths
That flooded ships with beauty
And flooded hearts with rest
But his writing desk was cluttered
Each draft was full of flaws
And few people ever read them
But the glory all was God’s
Some preacher preached his sermons
His words a windless storm
That whipped poor sheep with ego
Until those weary hearts were torn
Though his mouth should move a mountain
And the church fill with applause
And many people flock to hear him
Still the glory would be robbed
Another preacher preached a message
His words a simple flow
That came straight from the Bible
And poured on hearts so they could grow
Though he often felt unworthy
His soul gazed upon the Cross
No matter who might come to hear him
Still the glory all was God’s
