Play On

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I am but a bow in the hand of my maker crossing the strings of this violin but played by the hands of our maker. Both bow and violin lay ready and exposed. As vulnerable as every blade of grass and every fowl and ocean reef as every child and mountain peak, our needs are echoes of our maker as we are fed and led replete.

I speak of subtle majesty. I speak as one with deep belief. No snare or trap shall snatch me free from all that God has promised me. Use me. Use me. Let trumpets play. Let drums beat forth. Let lyrics flee. Let voices rise. Let nothing cease. To avail each self to the maker's plea.

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