The Source

Our world is a noisy place.  Sometimes our ears are so full that our minds are empty.  There is only One who is the source of my music, who directs the key of my life.  In solitude and silence His glorious music swells in my soul--

Amidst the cacophony, come.
Take up the baton
In those hands, strong and nail-scarred.

Tune and refine,
Direct and orchestrate--
Set in motion every fiber of my being.

With soaring crescendos
and with gentle whispers,
blow Your sweet breath of life.

Round out the stridence,
Steady the tempo,
Shape, Mold, and caress.

My eyes are fixed
On You,
O Conductor of My Soul.

        Barbara Lister Williams