Awakening by W. Thomas Edwards
A soul is made to sing, and sing it must.
It must to other things attend, also, but when its shape is done
And sometimes when the vessel that it moves knows that it’s there,
The singing breaks the bounds of clay
and can be heard.
What shape its song, it matters not
The reason for the singing is the key to understanding
What it is the soul is singing.
The greatest gift I know is grace
And is not won,
But poured upon us like some ancient Greek libation on the ground
Where some soaks in and some runs off the rocks.
Just when that soaking fills the soul to bursting out
The vessel sings
In joyous praise of grace and Giver.
Three times it sings each song in laud of
God the Three-in One.