I'Ll Be The First To Sing - Poem by Mac Wilkey
I listened Sunday morning
To all the singing birds;
I saw no choir director
And heard no human words.
Each song seemed to initiate
The next song through the air.
Some times the birds just sang alone;
Sometimes I heard a pair.
But seldom did their voices stop.
One always seemed to fill
The ending of another’s song
With its melodious trill.
I thought back to before the dawn
When all the birds had slept
As night’s sounds settled for the day,
And all their silence kept.
One little bird had ventured forth
When none but she would sing.
Not in response but on her own,
She let her music ring.
Lord, help me be the one who dares,
When no one else will sing,
To watch your wand and see you point
And let my music ring.
My feeble voice may not be strong
As others that are there,
But maybe mine will start the song
As it sweeps through the air.
Then other voices will respond—
Some sweeter—some more strong—
Some solos and some grand duets
Will join God’s chorus song.
The music made—so glorious
Can melt the hardest heart,
And God can bless each one of us
Who simply did his part.
Comments about I'Ll Be The First To Sing by Mac Wilkey
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda