This Is My Father's World

Lou Lotz

READ : Psalm 148:1-14

Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars! (v. 3)

At the hymn sings at my former church, when the song leader asked for requests, I’d always request #58, Maltbie Babcock’s classic, “This Is My Father’s World.” Ah, I can hear it now: “All nature sings and ‘round me rings the music of the spheres!”

To the psalmist, all creation is a hymn of praise. And it is. Astronomers tell us that distant stars “hum” with energy. Whales sing in the ocean. Wrens sing outside my bedroom window. Termites make a percussive sound in the earth—an underground tympani section, so to speak. My honeybees make a variety of buzzing sounds—low notes, high notes, sharps and flats. Elephants trumpet. Waterfalls roar. Aspens whisper in the wind. In heaven, meanwhile, all God’s angels praise him—sort of a celestial hymn sing. The sun and moon and shining stars praise him. All that music, the symphony of the universe—I wonder what it sounds like to God.

What a tragedy, then, when a voice that should be singing falls silent. The whooping crane can’t sing—it’s extinct. Chesapeake Bay can’t sing—it’s clogged with sewage. Once-pristine Michigan trout streams can’t sing—they’re polluted with mercury.

We are stewards of God’s good earth. If we don’t care for creation, who will?


Lord, help me to be a better steward of your world.