And maybe it’s then,

When your bones are breaking,

And your head is aching,

And your bags are packed,

You’re headed for the door.

When they call you again,

Saying one last time they need a friend.

And you’ve given it all before,

After,

Again.

They say they need a song,

But you never wanted to sing,

Yet something stops you,

He reminds you,

You might be their only symphony.

And He placed you in a choir,

Not to ring out your praise,

But to reach,

Grow,

Burst your lungs,

If only for something much higher.

And when she’s crying,

When he’s dying,

When they can do nothing for you.

Maybe it’s then,

That you sing for Him.

In the discord of life,

In the cacophony of despair,

When your heart isn’t in it,

When your mind begs to forget it.

When they ask you to sing,

And He calls you to love,

When it’s not your heart,

And yet despite that you choose,

Maybe it’s then that you sing for Him.