A Challenge for Our Lord
“Child what would you have me do,
A challenge more than most?
I am the Holy Trinity, the Lord - God, Holy Ghost.
There’s nothing you could dream to hear,
That to the Lord confound:
Then tell me please, my Maker true,
I wish to hear one sound.
A nightingale or piccolo, the flute or zephyr’s sigh,
The melody of pining maid, the spray that sweeps on by?
My Lord, you are the instrument,
There’s nothing you can’t do,
Whilst I am but a dreamer, the supplicant in pew.
Man has made from woodwind, string,
A multitude of choice,
No violin, flute or sweet played lyre
Can equal human voice.
The dulcet tones of maiden sweet are scent for human ear,
As soothing voice of angels when you rest on funeral bier.
My Lord, I wish a piping lute,
As sweet as maiden’s hymn,
As lullaby at eventide, lament for those who sin,
An instrument to match her voice,
To smooth away the pain
Soprano, tenor, baritone,
Chanteuse of sweet refrain.
Michael (Walsh) 17.03.2014.
quite_write@yahoo.co.uk