Sing, O my voice,

  a song for tomorrow.

Find words

  reimagined with promise and life.

 

For my voice is hoarse

and words hard to form. 

 

Sing, O congregation,

  the poems not yet written,

born in expectation

  of what this journey can become.

 

For we gather apart

words changing their meaning.

 

Sing, O you people,

  of the God who is at hand,

reborn in the questions 

  we honour and voice together.

 

For you are still there

revealing new wonders. 

 

Sing, O our souls,

  of possibility in the present

honed by a faith

  heading for tomorrow.

 

For the heaviness they weigh

is of love not abandonment. 

 

Sing, all you people,

  both lament and celebration

and in such heady combination

  let our hopes arise.