"Why don't I write a story?"
Ah, friend, if you could see
The depths of hidden heart-life
Alas! so known to me,
You'd find the truest story
Flashed out in gleams of light,
Before which all pens falter
And vanish out of sight.
And as they vanish from me
They leave the impress clear,
That only Heaven's pen could write
Such stories acted here.
So in His book of life,
Revealed to all some day,
You'll find my story grand and true,
Worked out in His own way.