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“Yahweh, I kept my soul a tabernacle, a tent all swept and cool,
lest passing by You might be pleased to be my guest awhile.
How could I dream, a village maid like me,
You would so speak your Word to me,
and make Your Word take flesh in me,
And make your Word my child to be.
Exult my soul and praise His name and glorify the wonder of His ways.
The great ones of His world He does not see,
His eyes, His love, have chosen, chosen me.
And He spoke yet another word to me:
“Your name in every generation blest shall be.”
Oh Yahweh, Father, King, accept my humble praise.
Blessed forever be Your secret ways.”
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