SONG OF THE
MYSTIC
by
ABRAM J. RYAN
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 I was weary of
noises
That fretted my soul with their
din;
Long ago I was weary of
places
Where I met but the human - and
sin.
I walked in the world with the
worldy;
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 shall never 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.
-From a typed-copy from an out-of-print,
public domain book. The typed-copy was made for a reading that I gave
in Public Speaking class at the University of Detroit on March 2,
1967. - James A. Petrait