The orchestra is tuning up
I settle in my chair.
A tuba gives a low hiccup
That trembles in the air
While sounds from every side erupt
To catch me unaware.
I hear the warble of a bird,
No, it’s a piccolo.
Soon mellow clarinets are heard,
They’re crooning sweet and low,
Then cacophony most absurd--
A mighty, crashing blow.
I purr with pleasure at the sound
Of woodwinds, wild and sweet,
As soothing violins abound
To make my joy complete.
Ah, then the drums begin to pound
With rolling, pulsing beat.
Then later I hear xylophones
That sound like tinkling glass,
A harp with underwater tones
That give the music class,
A bright trombone that moans and groans
Through brightly polished brass.
And, best of all, piano keys
In bright, staccato clips
Thrill the air with tuneful ease,
Then torture it with whips.
When keys engage in melodies
My mind is doing flips.
But then a melody so sweet
It sets my heart aflame.
For deep within this classic feat
I hear God call my name.
I squirm and wiggle in my seat
And there it is--my name!
Clouds break and tears begin to fall;
I dab my eyes in vain.
If Bach could give an alter call
My soul would be his gain,
For Christ has won me after all,
For me His body slain.
The symphony is over now;
I stumble down the aisle.
I do not see the maestro bow,
Just walk the crooked mile.
I move in haste, my head bent low
And praying all the while.
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