Before the swell of gospel melody,
The steady scales of scripture
Are plunked out daily in practice.
I play my Father’s masterpiece.
Before the crowd of miracles,
Prayer plods through lonely deserts
noting life’s measure.
I play my Father’s masterpiece.
Before the timing of pharisaic dissidence,
Lessons in theory reveal the authentic
character of the world’s composer.
I play my Father’s masterpiece.
Before the crescendo of resurrection,
there is a garden path of surrender
where I watch the winding procession of betrayal.
I play my Father’s masterpiece.
Before the harmony of fireside discipleship,
I close my eyes and listen to the master play.
Tuning my heart to the rhythm of the cross.
I play my Father’s masterpiece.