I can not sing, Father. A sweet, soothing voice is not something you gifted me. Toads at dusk are more melodious than I. But my heart sings. I would like to lift my voice high to heaven, but the breath I have is not sufficient. Instead I mouth the words, whisper my praise. But my heart sings. Others stand tall, lift their hands to You. That is not in me. Often I’m too weak to stand, my hands too heavy to raise. But my heart sings. Sometimes I’m sad, confused by You. Sometimes I’m hurt and angry with my brothers and sisters. But here in your house it all melts away. And my heart sings. I am a horrid sinner, Lord. I say and do things against your will. Who am I to stand before you? And yet, my heart sings. Here in your house I feel forgiven. I feel peace. I feel You. And my heart sings. Broken and bruised, sinful and undeserving I humbly come. I close my eyes. I lose myself in You and these lovely, loving voices surrounding me. And my heart sings. You know my heart, Father. You know every ounce of me.You know I’m on my knees, my head is bowed, my palms are raised. You know my heart sings.