Text: 2017, set for choir and orchestra
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So lowly are we born,
torn from mud and blood and pain,
and when we die
we are so lowly laid to rest,
ash to ash and dust to dust,
we may see only lowliness—
no grade, no slope, no hope of a view,
the body laden,
the soul a burden,
the heart unheard in sorrows deep,
but we are asleep.
We must awaken.
Just as Earth in faulted fountains
draws itself up into mountains
so are we, in lowly places
soaring into godly spaces.
Climb, then! Climb!—
Where we are broken
let us rise to the sublime!—
Let us lift our weary gazes to the skies.
The sweep of the ocean
and curve of the earth
and all of the glories of being alive
shall fill our eyes
when we climb to where our faults give rise!—
Text © 2017 Todd Boss. Please contact us for reprint permission.