The strings of my heart were out of tune,
And Your fingers couldn’t play,
A crying sound like a dying loon,
Was all that filled my day,
So You turned Your hand to tune them,
And You pulled, and You sang as You twisted,
Tighter and higher, stronger and longer,
Until they were finally in line,
A new song You wrote,
What joy in each note,
Which poured from Your mouth on the throne,
And played on my heart,
A cherished, choice part,
In the orchestra of the world.