What if You're waiting for the last song on earth
If that were the key to revealing Your worth?
Would the orchestral score summon Your bride
With the longing refrain of that lullaby?
What if your patience was dependent upon
A measure of eighths that had yet to be sung?
With Your trumpeter anxious to join the applause
As he waits in the wings for the ultimate cause?
What if all symphonies paled in the din
Of the peal of the bells that would usher You in
That the greatest of songs from the depth of all time
Could not hold a candle to this final rhyme?
And then what if each combination of notes
Just brought You closer to bringing us home?
And what David had started in the courts of the king
That comforted Saul by playing the strings
Was scratching the surface of Your infinite plan
And with each new melody, moving Your hand?
Would poets be more inclined to submit
Their craft at a rate that could fully outfit
The melodies waiting for words to complete them
And harmonies longingly searching for freedom?
Would songwriters furiously notate their score
Faster and faster till Your final encore?
How many songs can eight notes compose
And how is it that a songwriter knows
That this one has never before been sung
By the angels or man in any known tongue?
What if this song was kept by a beat
Of a heart that was trapped and a mouth that couldn't speak
If the song You awaited was called by a name
The lyrics of which had been written with shame?
But somehow the writer has failed to take note
The potential of beauty that this song could hold?
And unknowing his error, he fails to compose
The symphony that so longs to unfold?
If You were waiting on that one final piece
That one perfect opus, Your power to unleash?
Would lyricists double their efforts at all
In order to answer and heed Your call?
