When, at 1:00 am, our neighbor rises

for his nightly ritual, plinks a bit, then—

perhaps inspired—passionately pounds out

“When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,”

my husband refuses to survey anything,

keeps his eyes shut, plugs his ears. I stumble

to the nearby crib, nurse Baby to (next up)

blind Fanny’s “Blessed Assurance.”

None comes to me. My child accepts the loud

lullabies and coos—eventually. My husband snores

harmony, but by 3:00 am, I’m asking,

“And Can It Be That I Should Gain”

even a second of sleep? Sure, “I Love

to Tell the Story” of “Standing on the Promises,”

but all I can do is “Count My Blessings” until

“Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory”

of finally 4:00 am, and then, Oh, “Amazing Grace”!

(the practice ends) “There Is a Place of Quiet Rest.”