Awake, awake, Deborah; Awake, awake, utter a song: Arise, Barak, and lead away your captives, you son of Abinoam.
I know not whether you feel as I do, but in preaching upon this theme, I mourn a scantiness of words, and a slowness of language. If I could let my heart talk without my lips, methinks with God’s Spirit I could move you indeed with joy. But these lips find that the language of the heart is above them. The tongue discovereth that it cannot reach the fulness of joy that is within. Let it beam from my face, if it cannot be spoken from my mouth.
