“Here I am, Lord. It is I, Lord. I have heard you calling in the night.” I don’t have enough fingers and toes to figure out how many times I sang these words at how many campfires. We’re probably talking hairs on my head at least. Goodness me, I would sing it frontwards and backwards and probably while bailing a sinking canoe blindfolded.
But the story is much harder to hear than the song.