Overheard from the Bookshelf

I wish I were a hymn book
Full of living song;
I’d sing and ne’er grow weary
The whole day long.

I’d voice my exultation,
Make others happy too;
I’d “come out on the chorus,”
Sing every stanza through!

I’d be a solo sometimes,
Or harmonize with you –
We’d sing of sorrows even
And heartaches not a few.

But I am just a volume,
Closed and on the shelf,
And no one cares to open me
And find my inmost self.