In the mid silence of the voiceless night,
When, chased by airy dreams, the slumbers flee,
Whom, in the darkness, doth my spirit seek,
O God, but Thee?
And if there be a weight upon my breast,
Some vague impression of the day foregone,
Scarce knowing what it is, I fly to Thee
And lay it down.
Or if it be the heaviest that comes,
In token of anticipated ill,
My bosom takes no heed of what it is,
Since ‘t it is Thy will.
For oh! in spite of past and present care,
Or anything besides, how joyfully
Passes that almost solitary hour,
My God, with Thee!
More tranquil than the stillness of the night,
More peaceful than the stillness of that hour,
More blest than anything, my bosom lies
Beneath Thy power.
For what is there on earth that I desire,
Of all that it can give or take from me?
Or whom in heaven doth my spirit seek,
O God, but Thee?
Unknown hymn found treasured up in a humble cottage in England
I do not know when I have had happier times in my soul, than when I have been sitting at work, with nothing before me but a candle and a white cloth, and hearing no sound but that of my own breath, with God in my soul and heaven in my eye…. I rejoice in being exactly what I am, —a creature capable of loving God, and who as long as God lives, must be happy. I get up and look for a while out of the window, and gaze at the moon and stars, the work of an Almighty hand. I think of the grandeur of the universe, and then sit down, and think myself one of the happiest beings in it.
A Poor English Woman in the 18th century
In a world where there is so much to ruffle the spirit’s plumes, how needful that entering into the secret of His pavilion, which will alone bring it back to composure and peace! In a world where there is so much to sadden and depress, how blessed that communion with Him in whom is the one true source and fountain of all true gladness and abiding joy!
Richard Chenevix Trench
