Height and Depth

O father—

Give me my throat again in winter, O let this human harp to sing Deeper than the dream of autumn, Higher than the hope of spring.

Give me my grip as now in summer My fingers feel to press the chord Worthy of the gift of singing Of man's glory, of my own Lord.

Give me in my simple playing, Whether the text is questioned wrong That all men of the earth are brothers, An honest performance in my song.