I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free.
I sing because, in the final hour, I know Love carries me.
I sing because many souls before, though drifting into death,
found the praise and prayer and faith to sing with their last remaining breath.
I sing because He bent to me where I’d fallen by the road,
and with great compassion, dressed my wounds, and He bore my heavy load.
I sing because He looked at me with a light that love had made
and a voice truer that truth itself, saying, “Do not be afraid.”
I sing because, in the final count, no mistake can match the weight
of the mercy holding up this world, making foolishness of fate.
I sing because of the Singer that remains inside of me
when it seems the bird of hope has flown to the reaches of the sea.
I sing because of the Artist’s wells of watercolor tears
gaining deeper hues through the sufferings that mark our living years.
I sing because of the ones who can no longer find their voice,
who’ve been muted through some circumstance, or perhaps an errant choice.
I sing because of the table set with a place reserved for me,
and a feast befitting kings and queens, which is absolutely free.
I sing because you’re singing, too, with a voice that sounds like mine,
in a choir with parts for everyone, and a score by Love’s design.
I sing because the rhythm dancing ever in the skies
is the sound of hearts that beat as one, and a song that never dies.