Songs lend thought the persuasive force of beauty,
Enduring longer than the naked word.
Vested in a song, one does one's duty,
Ever the evangelistic bird.
Nor ought one's passion strike one as absurd.
The gift of song comes with the gift of yearning,
Years and years of wanting, wishing, burning.
Sing, then, of song, and of its intimate power,
Each singer in the grip of its embrace,
Vividly reworking, listening, learning,
Ever on the ragged edge of grace,
Needing patient urgency to flower.