Though my ears do not.
My soul feels it,
Yet my hands did not touch it.
What a glorious sound
That is all around
Full of grace, of love, of beauty
Why then, is it not celebrated?
I hear it in the sound of breathing
I see the score in the actions of his children
In the rustling of leaves during autumn and the swirling of petals in spring, I hear it's crescendo
And in the hearts of his people, I hear the chorus at full voice, singing "Praise the Lord!"
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