Poetic Paraphrase
By Kristen Sanders

Isaiah 6:1-8

Holy, Holy is the Lord
the seraphs were crying out.
Their wings enfolded their bodies
as they were flying about.

Below them set King of all.
His robe had filled the room.
The temple shook and filled with smoke
as their voices rang throughout.

To the floor I fell and cried,
Who am I? Of unclean lips
and what is this world I live in?

A seraph flew with a coal in hand
and burnt my unclean lips.
Then and there I was cleansed
from all my sin, I was atoned.

Just as thunder resounds
through out the night.
The Lord's voice called to me.
Whom shall I send?

With heart full of love,
and a light in my eyes,
I cried Holy, Holy, Holy…
Lord, send me!