In church and cathedral, on each Sunday morn,


Hymns fill the rafters and sweet praise is born,


High up to Heaven, on glad tides of song,


Float voices of Faith, a million times strong.




Faltering and failing, my own voice is small,


I know some of the words, but I don’t know them all,


In uncertain moments I lose the tune’s theme,


Or else my mind wanders and drifts in a dream.




But the gaps are all filled by the voices around me,


The harmonious whole is all that surrounds me,


And perhaps when another voice misses a note,


In filling that gap is where I contribute.




Perhaps it’s like that in the Great Hymn of Life,


The Song of Creation, with its joys and its strife.


We all seem so pointless, but we each play a part,


Like the links of a chain, or the beats of a heart.




When one of us fails, or misses a cue,


With all of us trying, someone will win through.


The Great Hymn of Life will go on and on,


Eternally noble, eternally strong.