Lord of Creation,

From the still chilled soil where tulips bloom,
Your hand reveals each petal’s fold,
A silent hymn, a gentle praise,
Beneath the morning’s glow.

In hues of crimson, white, and gold,
Your artistry is clear,
Each blossom affirms a life renewed,
A hope that casts out fear.

The tulip bows in reverence low,
Yet stands with dignity,
Its beauty lies in what it shows—
A glimpse of majesty.

Teach my heart, like this fair flower,
To bloom where I am sown,
To find my strength in simple grace,
And seek Your face alone.

May I, like tulips in the field,
Reflect Your love and light,
In every season, trust Your will,
And blossom in Your sight.

Amen