The Gift of Music

O Music, breath of the soul unseen,

A whisper draped in golden sheen.

You came before the birth of word,

And in your silence, God was heard.

You are the pulse of every race,

The echo time cannot erase.

No tongue divides your sacred art

You speak in chords that reach the heart.

A cradle’s hum, a battle’s cry,

A lull beneath the stormy sky.

You are the weeping of the bowed,

The rising hope within the crowd.

How holy is the gift to sing,

To shape the air with trembling wing,

To lift a tune and let it fly,

And feel it catch eternity’s eye.

I thank You, Music living flame,

That burns in every voice and name.

You turn our grief to woven grace,

And kiss each tear on sorrow’s face.

In hands, in breath, in heart you dwell,

With every note, a tale to tell.

In choir, in cello, in whispered flute,

In laughter loud, in silence mute.

To sing is not just sound and breath

It’s life outshouting even death.

To write a phrase, to play a part,

Is heaven pulsing in the heart.

O gift divine, O sacred art,

You bridge the soul, you mend the heart.

Let all who’ve tasted your embrace,

Be messengers of light and grace.

Let me ever play and sing,

And help the joy of music ring.

Through me, through others, far and wide,

Let beauty be the truest guide.

For in your arms, we all belong

One world, one spirit, one great song.