In the year Uzziah died, God was seen up high and wide.
Angels flew, each on six wings, shouting holy, holy things.
Hinges shook as seraphs spoke. There was smoke, but nothing broke.
I was moved by all my sin, till an angel made me clean.
God called out, and I got sent, to the people out I went,
knowing that they would not hear, and I’d labor many years.
Dull of mind and blind to light, turning not to where they might
find the healing touch they need. Deep concealing holy seed.
Photo: “Mount St. Helens Eruption 1980” by adam79 is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
Source: Isaiah 6:1-13
Text: David Alexander, 2022 CC BY-NC SA 4.0
Tune: Aberystwyth, Public Domain
Audio: www.smallchurchmusic.com Used by Permission.