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Word to the Wise: Leaves a’changin’ but it’s still my Father’s world

By: Tom Rupp, Special to the Telegraph
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Because of our prolonged spring and relatively mild summer, the leaves around here are taking their sweet time changing and falling. I keep record of such matters each year. And now the light show has begun. It’s fine with me, as if I have anything to say about it or am able to do anything about it. All we can do is enjoy the fireworks display of color. This past week was the first of many leaf mulching adventures at our house. One has to stay up on these things or they quickly get out of hand. This time of year a certain hymn seems especially fitting. Please indulge me to relate it here — This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres. This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; His hand the wonders wrought. This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise, The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise. This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair; In the rustling grass I hear Him pass; He speaks to me everywhere. This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done: Jesus Who died shall be satisfied, And earth and Heav’n be one. These old hymns have a strong and solid air about them. The author of this hymn, Maltbie Babcock, took long walks in 19th century in northern New York state. When starting a walk he would say, “I’m going out to see my Father’s world.” So much of our town and our world has been covered with tar and pavement. The hand of human progress has encroached into nearly every conceivable space that we dwell on this planet. Thankfully we are not far from a more untarnished experience of nature. Psalm 24:1 says, “the earth is the Lord’s and all of its fullness.” Seeing the creation helps us to appreciate the Creator. We lift our eyes above the manmade to gaze with an eye of faith on what cannot be seen. Such unseen realities will one day be real long after nations have fallen and cities have crumbled. Tom Rupp can be reached at truppfolsom@yahoo.com.