Sonnet

Cantor sublime, whose sure and subtle tone
Has infinite expression at its call
And sets each listening heart in happy thrall,
Rejoice, for yet this gift is not your own.

Lent for a while by God, whose generous hand
Endows each soul with gifts for all to share,
Such is the nature of your talent rare,
Deep-woven in the paths that he has planned.

And so no burden shall it be to you,
No arrogance upon your spirit weighs
In spite of all the vagaries of fame:

Ever the heart that rules the voice rings true.
Let then that voice, until the end of days,
Sing praise and glory to his holy name.

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