the cembalo was alive , and god how he knew it , and the strings were alive , and god how he knew them , and he knew the voices that sang , and his name shall be called wonderful , counsellor , and he threw back his head and cast his arms skyward in recognition , for he was alive again with the music surging all around him and now through him , and as the oratorio soared and swirled it bridged the chasm again and again and threw open the mouth of his cave and he was free to go .