She had a song and sang it well, a voice with words worth hearing
But others thought her song was weak and screamed with words overbearing.
Soon all she heard were screams, her song became so faint.
She tried to keep her song in the mind, but there all that kept were lies.
With desperate hope she turned to their screams and tried to scream along,
but she lost herself and her life in the noise, her voice became
silent.
No song to sing, no voice or scream. Just quiet and still, her apathy.
On a quiet day, she heard a voice that spoke as she once did.
It's sound was sweet, gracious, and "mercy from first to last"*,
It echoed the mystery from where her voice came and reminded her to rest.
"Be still sweet child, and follow ME, with grace I'll bring you home."
The song she had sung did not come from herself, or from the screams of strife.
but from her Maker's mouth came honey, with beauty and words for life.
Where do you get your song?
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