You fill the valley of the lowly, shaping firm steps upward, raising the downcast up to where they can see the sun again. You are a swollen river, rushing, flooding, filling us with faith till we walk on water, walk on up this liquid escalator of joy.
You demolish the mountain of the proud, shaking the steps of the haughty till self-sufficiency crumbles in the quake. You are a sweeping torrent, rushing, a rapid wave that sweeps us over the falls and down to the exalted plain of humility.
Where the horizons meet, we see each other face to face, and there meet Grace. We are all on level ground.