p. 162 | THE UNWRITTEN SONG by L. D. Santee

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Tuesday, March 17, 1885

FromThe Review and Herald, Vol. 62, No. 11

THE UNWRITTEN SONG.

By L. D. Santee

BY ELD. L. D. SANTEE.

You ask that my pen should betray me, And write you the unwritten song That, down in the deeps of the spirit, My heart carries all the day long. You ask me to write out my longings, You wish me to pen you the rhyme That, down in the heart of the singer, Chants its wonderful music sublime.

Far out on the sea there are billows That on the shore never shall break; And down in the soul of the singer There are longings no language e'er spake. There are passionate depths of emotion That never find voicing in words; There are songs of a holy devotion, And their cadence the spirit has heard.

Deep down in the heart's cloistered chamber Is an altar, a pure, holy shrine; And there does the soul of the singer Bow down with a rapture divine; There are loves in the heart of the singer, Each one in its own chosen place, And he visits this "holy of holies," And leaves them with tears on his face.

Then ask not my pen to betray me, Or the soul's secret longing to trace, For I have seen visions of angels That never on earth shall find place! And I have seen visions of beauty Too glowing for language to reach; There are songs in the soul of the singer That never shall float into speech.

Or how can I tell of the glories I shall see in the kingdom of God, Or tell of the rapture when loved ones, Now sleeping, shall rise from the sod? Or how shall I tell of the beauties That Christ to the saints shall impart? The song is too grand for expression, But I treasure it deep in my heart.

When I list to the song of my spirit, Ah me, how my feelings are stirred! 'Tis too bright to on earth find expression, Too pure for the touch of a word. I took up my pen for your pleasure, But I cease from my writing ere long, For you know not the thing you are asking, When you ask for the unwritten song.