O God,
creator of our land, . . .
You have also pulled other continents
out of the sea.
What a wonderful world you have made
out of wet mud,
and what beautiful men and women! . . .
The grace of your creation is like a cool day
between rainy seasons. . . .
Bless us.
Bless our land and people.
Bless our forests . . .
Bless our fields . . .
Bless the waters . . .
Be with us in our countries and in all Africa,
and in the whole world.
Prepare us for the service that we should render.
We laugh together like we never have before. Her face radiates pure joy. She's a good little dancer, music in her blood...maybe a word from God. She's so happy and strong , despite her world crumbling around her, that I can only gaze in awe. She leaps into the air, giving shape to the music that reposes in all matter, just waiting to be released. She liberates the music and, in her innocence, cannot know what she has done and thereby is all the stronger. Is God speaking to this tired old heart? Is God saying, "Look — don't you get it? She's as marvelous as a galaxy. You have nothing to fear. If I can call her into being, there's nothing I can't do. Now dance. Dance!"