When I’m flat on my back

When I’m flat on my back to the tune ‘The road to Dundee’ CH4: No. 697

When I’m flat on my back and I stare at the heavens,
The galaxies curving beyond human ken,
And calculate epochs in millions of aeons
I ponder my infinite Maker again.

When I study the head of a dahlia or daisy,
The delicate scent of the sweet columbine;
Their patterns and colours and textures persuade me
They’re faithfully coined to my Maker’s design.

When a ewe stands her ground as I walk through her pasture,
Or swans gently safeguard their frolicking young;
With ducklings and tadpoles and monkeys and pandas,
I laugh at my Maker’s absurd sense of fun.

Thus dappled and mottled and speckled and spotted,
Circles and angles and lines intertwined;
Divergence and difference, distinction and contrast –
My Maker cannot be described or confined.

So Dawkins and Hawkins and Harris can hang out –
I’ll walk where the saints and the psalmists have trod:
There’s purpose and wonder and form in creation –
Revealing the mind of ingenious God!