I am no singer My voice is rough-hewn Cut from untrained ears Practitioner of nill This voice deep of wood Found a song to sing Soothing the young and hard They from dark circumstance Tears like embered ash Fall and sizzle on cheeks Clenched teeth and red-faced The oil from pressed homes With my voice I scold With my voice I sooth With my voice I correct With my voice I love Strong arms lift pressure Mill-stones of blood sin Deep loving safe coos You are loved sweet child In my sin I feel Hero like strength, will My deep song is loud My wooden voice proud What fills my marrow What animates me Am I the hero Am I the savior It is Christ in me God’s strength fills marrow His breath fills lungs Christ’s words the song Without my savior I would be crushed to Under the millstone The oil from pressed homes Sing into the dark