Poem by Nathaleen Cobb
Why am I on this hill
Capable in body and strong in will
My musical instrument well strung
Why is my voice yet quiet and still.
Why not sing the song
I was sent to sing.
My modeling has not just begun,
The price was paid, a painful thing
Artistic work at the potters wheel
Time and temperature in the fiery kiln.
No need to seek another comparison.
The book has been written, a map of instruction.
I will raise my voice, loud and clear,
And sing the song I came to sing,
To celebrate the birth of Christ,
In thanksgiving that God is love.
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