When I see the heavens, the work of your hands.
The moon and stars which you arranged, what is man that you should keep him in mind.
You alone stand outside time’s shifting sands.
You alone stand outside man’s remorseless daily grind.

My argument with belief has been, how could the maker of the Universe stooped to us.
But the psalmist was amazed too, but believed that he cared for mortal man.
Thus he did not doubt only discuss.
What right have I to doubt, am I just not one man.

So should I like the psalmist.
Agree he has made mortal man little less than a god.
Through a heavy questioning mist.
I join reluctantly faith’s squad.

Others before have looked to the night sky and wondered.
But still my restless will remains un-surrendered.