The twisting river, with craggy rapids, rushes on and rushes on. Foam and spray.
In generations, the stones will smooth, the turns will straighten, the flow will ease. Strong and silent current through a mighty channel.
The smooth path I walk today, how many years of daily steps did it take to become itself?
My frantic ways, how long until they become placid strength?
Lord, you are the maker of tracks, the builder of foundations, stone by stone. Let me, this day, set one stone and then another.