Echoes of the Spirit #1954 (Poem)

Echoes of the Spirit This microphone, a vessel true, Neither our voice, nor words we knew, Essence of spirits, hearts we bear, Silent witness, truths declare. When our lips in silence lie, World falls hushed, yet voices fly, Countless mics, in chorus bright, Beacons shining through the night. Grace finds way in silent song, Not from hearts, yet they belong, Praising loud the Cross's might, Through the ages, pure and right. Silent voices, endless throng, Raise a chorus, pure and strong, Spirit's whisper, Cross's call, In this praise, they stand tall. -Steven G. Lee (June 26, 2024)