I felt first of all joyous. I felt that which joy is made of, and I realized that Joy itself must have been the impelling force, that which was before we were there, and that somehow Joy was in every part of our making. When the world was an ooze without any shape or direction, there must have been Joy reaching out and expressing itself everywhere.
My spiritual heritage included the weekly hymn by P. P. Bliss which continues to come to mind:
Sing them over again to me,
Wonderful words of Life.
Let me more of their beauty see,
Wonderful words of Life.
Words of Life and Beauty
Teach me faith and duty:
Beautiful words, wonderful words,
Wonderful words of Life.
The mystery of the voice and its potent transformative sounds may be experienced int he wonderful words of life, the tuning and vibration of the sacred breath, and the roaring silence of internal thought.