“God Made All This,” Ensign, July 1983, 7
I walked the sands that hold the ocean
and saw the sea in ceaseless motion.
I climbed the driftwood, bleached and grey,
piled high by tides along the way.
I glimpsed the shape of distant ships
and tasted salt upon my lips.
I watched the gulls all flying high
and saw the clouds go drifting by.
I searched for pebbles shining bright,
and found rare shells, all pearl white.
I held a chambered nautilus,
and felt the fog’s soft, mist-thrown kiss.
I heard the winds,
low muted, blowing,
And felt a peace that comes with knowing—
a quiet bliss:
God made all this.