I fear the words I do not know
will soon expose the fraud I do,
or that a sermon kills the work
of all I've done, I hope, for you.

They catch somewhere inside my throat --
I dread the flames they may ignite;
of love or hate, how can I know?
Each word a harvest or a blight.

But every word of mine becomes
kerygma when its lost inside
a world of God and life and light.
The Word of God -- and I replied!

In pulpits, lines of voice are blurred,
as here both God and man are heard.
Behold the power of the word.
Behold the power of the Word.