The Nightingale

Cherubs set aside this time each week,
None would think to make any other choice;
For Sunday is that most wondrous day,
When this special lady raises up her voice.

Heavenly hosts just stop and bend low,
And gaze down upon the gathering band;
An excitement runs through the multitude,
In anticipation of the moment at hand.

Rejoicing to be a part of this amazing moment,
To witness this gift of the Lord most High;
This songbird that sings with such passion,
To make even His angels there in heaven cry.

Inspirational are the words that are heard,
Interwoven with the music that plays a roll;
In delivering a sense of Godly devotion,
That sets a fire burning within your soul.

Seraphims are moved by the ethereal sounds,
Swaying in rhythm from the song's start;
While those below are captured by each verse,
As the refrain exits her by way of the heart.

Time stops and stands still for a moment,
As the last note dissipates in the charged air;
Then broken by the thunderous applause,
And I count myself blessed to be standing there.

Years have come and years will surely pass,
And I know eternity won't seem nearly so long;
After having heard the voice of an angel sing,
That day the nightingale sang for us her song.

Dedicated to the glory of God, Who makes her the nightingale.


© March 2002