Ask, "What is man?" Man is most like a song
Woven of tones unwaveringly his own,
And yet, not his; the patterning alone
Pertains to him. The pure, free notes belong
To no man born; no mesh of sound so strong
It can confine a single semitone
To its sole texture! Still the Lord has blown
These notes from open throat in myriad throng.
And count among the filaments of sound
From which God weaves His harmonies of man
Sky-soaring strain of joy in God's control,
Faith in His power so powerful and profound
It plumbs all depths. All-compassing in span,
Man is the never-ending psalm of Soul.
