The heavens are telling the glory of God,
and the sky above is a page without words.
No voice is lifted, no language is spoken,
yet their line goes out to the ends of the earth.
By day the sun pours out speech,
and by night the stars take up the refrain.
There is no people, no far-off nation,
to whom this witness does not reach.
I stand beneath them and I am small,
yet the silence of the stars is loud.
They have been preaching since the world began,
and I, lateborn, am only beginning to listen.
Give my heart ears, O Lord,
to hear what the night has always been saying.
Let the heavens' quiet sermon
become the praise upon my tongue.
July 30, 2026