Look at the birds of the air;
they do not sow or reap
or store away in barns,
and yet your heavenly Father
feeds them.

(Matthew 6:26)

Tiger
by Jenna Wilson
Oil

The Tiger

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake 1757 - 1827

There is time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die.

(Ecclesiastes 3: 1,2)

A Gift of Life
by Heather Aitken
Oil

But ask the animals and they will teach you...
In his hand is the life of every creature and
the breath of all mankind.

(Job 12: 7,10)