Joy Unsung

Could I but sing the song that’s in my heart,

And utter all the joy that there is found,

This world would be a place by far too small

To hold the melody that should resound.

But no, mine is a joy too great for words–

‘Tis far too sacred for my humble tongue–

And so I sing it to myself, within,

While to the world it must remain unsung.

‘Tis not the joy that worldly pleasures bring,

For they are here today, tomorrow–gone!

And mine? What are I though the mountains fall

And crumble as the sands? ‘Twill linger on!

‘Tis greater than the joy of fame and wealth;

The rarest jewel with it can’t compare;

I would not trade it for a store of gold,

For in itself it is a gem most rare.

It makes the sun seem brighter than before;

It lends new loveliness to birds that sing;

Its beauty radiates throughout the world;

It is the joy that faith alone can bring,

Faith in an everlasting God of might,

a God who knows no sin, who cannot lie;

Whose holiness demands a sacrifice;

Whose love sent forth His deathless Son to die.

Death holds no fear for me–no mystery;

I know that I shall live with Him for aye.

Ah, do you wonder that my heart is filled

With peace that none can ever take away?

By Barbara C. Ryberg