Poetry

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(Written 3-8-04, for my Choir, of which I'm a member)

Singing for the highest realm,
We’re given grace, for we’re reborn;
We hail the Christ, God’s sole Son,
To magnify the Father’s horn.

Be amazed, O host o’ heaven,
The weak, by grace, are strong.
Now by same grace, with golden throat,
We sing the Lord’s gospel song.

Shake with fear, demons o’ contempt,
Our weapon is our song;
By which we now tear down walls,
For our Christ, for whom we long.

We cannot glory for ourselves,
As if this gift is self-ordained;
We do such for He who loves,
Love-compelled by He who reigns.

For what is our lot, by grace,
Who deserve Perdition?
Our place is to worship the Eternal,
Dwelling with Him who made us heaven.

So we are given more grace,
A pattern we’re to set;
To live with song in our hearts,
For the One we have not met.

Our time here is but a test,
An exercise for the ‘morrow,
When we sing forevermore,
For our Christ, whom we now follow.

But for now, this our blessing:
He inhabits all our praise;
We sing for the living Lord,
Whom the Father raised!

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