by Anne MacMillan

Upon a rock of pensiveness, she played her broken tune;
The strings that once were tautly strung, now frayed, neglected, ruin’d.
Yet in her mind’s eye beauty heard, a beauty seen and touched,
The harp which once played heaven’s song still held within her clutch.

“Yet shall I play the ancient song on instrument of praise?
Lament alone is not its strength, but songs of gladder days.
A day of full recov’ry, no more mere bandaged wounds.
When all creation, harp, and soul will sing the Eden tunes.”

Each note reverbed and caught by wind transformed to join a song
Still sung in heaven and on earth, amongst the joyful throng.
The day, the hour we know not when but now redeem our days,
For then with open eyes and harp, springs forth resounding praise.

Eye has not seen nor ear yet heard the things prepared for those
Whose gaze is set on things above, not solely earth’s repose.
Tear open blinds and mend all strings, prepare in jubilation!
The day will come with hast’ning glee and stunning new creation.

The harp unchained and strings restored, all groaning, weeping, ceased,
And on this Rock of ages spring the songs of our release.
So play and sing in hastening, while bandaged, chained and weak,
For in that weakness strength perfects the song of the redeemed.

“Nor Ear Yet Heard” is a “now but not yet” poem that points to the new creation when the Sun of Righteousness will arise with healing in His wings and all things will be made new.