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A Musicians Song

WILMA’S SONG

A child is born, and heaven sings
And the song moves into our heart
Through childhood days the song replays
As it becomes a part
Of who we are and how we live
In our body and our spirit
Sometimes so plain,sometimes in pain
So deep we hardly hear it.

Some people never share their song
They mute it in their living;
Their melodies, in minor keys
Are never heard, or given
To those who wait to hear the tune.
They listen, but in vain
For a harmony they cannot see,
And a song that no one sang.

It was not so with Wilma’s song
She sang it loud and clear
Her voice was raised in songs of praise
Her fingers had no fear
As they flew across her much loved guitar
The harmonies rang out
And chords were made as the strings she played
And the song left never a doubt
That the joy in her heart came from deep within
And she wanted the world to know
So she sang it loud and she sang out proud
For as long as she could go.

While some might think her voice is stilled
That her song has come to an end
We know the truth - as in days of youth
She is singing, and playing again.

For Wilma now sings with the angel choir
In eternity so long
For the song God gives forever lives
And the melodies linger on
In a land of bliss where there is no night
And sickness is never a care
Where the angels sing heaven’s sweet refrain,
What joy when we meet her there.


Written by Joan Rowden Hart on August 14, 2006.

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