… Drop Thy still dews of quietnessTill all our strivings cease;Take from our souls the strain and stress,And let our ordered lives confessThe beauty of Thy peace.Breathe through the heats of our desireThy coolness and Thy balm;Let sense be dumb – let flesh retire;Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fireO still small voice of calm!John Greenleaf Whittier, 1807-92
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire
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