Song of the Mystic


I walk down the Valley of Silence --
 Down the dim, voiceless valley -- alone!
And I hear not the fall of a footstep
 Around me, save God's and my own;
And the hush of my heart is as holy
 As hovers where angels have flown!

Long ago was I weary of voices
 Whose music my heart could not win;
Long ago was I weary of noises
 That fretted my soul with their din;
Long ago was I weary of places
 Where I met but the human -- and sin.

I walked in the world with the worldly;
 I craved what the world never gave;
And I said:  "In the world each Ideal,
 That shines like a star on life's wave,
Is wrecked on the shores of the Real,
 And sleeps like a dream in a grave."

And still did I pine for the Perfect,
 And still found the False with the True;
I sought 'mid the Human for Heaven,
 But caught a mere glimpse of its Blue:
And I wept when the clouds of the Mortal
 Veiled even that glimpse from my view.

And I toiled on, heart-tired, of the Human,
 And I moaned 'mid the mazes of men,
Till I knelt, long ago, at an altar
 And I heard a voice call me.  Since then
I walk down the Valley of Silence
 That lies far beyond mortal ken.

Do you ask what I found in the Valley?
 'Tis my Trysting Place with the Divine.
And I fell at the feet of the Holy,
 And above me a voice said:  "Be mine."
And there arose from the depths of my spirit
 An echo -- "My heart shall be Thine."

Do you ask how I live in the Valley?
 I weep -- and I dream -- and I pray.
But my tears are as sweet as the dewdrops
 That fall on the roses in May;
And my prayer, like a perfume from censers,
 Ascendeth to God night and day.

In the hush of the Valley of Silence
 I dream all the songs that I sing;
And the music floats down the dim Valley,
 Till each finds a word for a wing,
That to hearts, like the Dove of the Deluge,
 A message of Peace they may bring.

But far on the deep there are billows
 That never shall break on the beach;
And I have heard songs in the Silence
 That never shall float into speech;
And I have had dreams in the Valley
 Too lofty for language to reach.

And I have seen Thoughts in the Valley --
 Ah! me, how my spirit was stirred!
And they wear holy veils on their faces,
 Their footsteps can scarcely be heard;
They pass through the Valley like virgins,
 Too pure for the touch of a word!

Do you ask me the place of the Valley,
 Ye hearts that are harrowed by Care?
It lieth afar between mountains,
 And God and His angels are there:
And one is the dark mount of Sorrow,
 And one the bright mountain of Prayer.
 

-- Abram J. Ryan
(Father Ryan)


 



 

 


Home Up Contents

Back Next

 

 

Song of the Mystic