It's the base note

It’s the bass note.
A note on life’s score.
The note we avoid,
The note He employs.

It’s the shouldered cross,
The staggering loss,
The ill got from good,
The time when you stood.

The prognosis grim,
The broken sung hymn,
The “even if” moment,
The doubts and the torment.

It’s the bass note.
It’s out of the boat
That fills us with fears
And drags out our tears.

Really, Lord?
Will you crush what you grew?
Will you take what you gave?
Will you fold to the grave?

“Yes,” He said.

“I will prune branches with fruit
And give trial to suit.
I will take what I gave
To purge silver of dross.

I will leave tombs sealed,
Days tarry for love.
If I’d come when you called
And everything solved,

I’d never have raised
A man from the grave
Or brought Easter morn
Or peopled bright yonder shore.

Though deep is the note,
And alone sounds forlorn,
It’s part of the score
And heralds far more.

More glory, more meaning,
More grounding than lightness,
More foundations beaming,
More faith in the darkness.

So, pray for the ear
To hear what I hear:
A complete heaven’s song
Sung for eternity long.

It’s the bass note.
And you sing it faithful for Me.”