There was a song written that said

"I sing because I'm happy

I sing because I'm free

For his eye is on the sparrow

And I know he watches me."

I sing for boundless joy

I sing for terrible sorrow.

When I feel my life is done

I pick up the pen

And spill my guts,

My heart,

My brains,

Onto the clean, white paper.

I write when I can't cry.

I write when I can't scream.

I write when I can't sing.

I write for my Lord.

I spill out my love,

My devotion,

My anger,

My trust

Into the prayer I pray.

I put my life on the paper.

My life stares back at me,

Blank,

But for the Father,

Who sings with me,

Who cries with me,

Who presses my poor wounded life,

My bleeding paper,

And heals it.

The scribbles are gone,

The tear marks.

My life is healed in his hands.

My words poured so freely

In grief,

In terror,

In elation,

Are taken from me and read,

Every word.

I write,

I sing,

I pray,

I cry,

For I know that He will hear me.