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