"Be Still, and know that I am God!"

Be silent, Soul!—though dark thy path and dreary,
And wild with storm, yet what is that to thee?
Though thou art faint, and desolate, and weary,
Thy God hath willed thus,—so let it be!
Murmurs the mountain oak when storms assail it,
And warring tempests wildly shake its form?
Firmer within the earth its root it striketh,
And gathers strength and vigor from the storm.

Be silent, Soul!—the hand of God is on thee!
And, as a skillful gard'ner, from the vine
Doth lop away each worthless branch and barren,
So He would lop each fruitless bough of thine.
Ah! thou art earth-bound, prone, and lowly creeping,
clinging to things too frail to be thy stay;
Jesus, with watchful care His vineyard keeping,
Would lift thee up to sunshine and the day.

Be silent, Soul!—thou'rt not thy own;—the Saviour
With blood and anguish bought thee on the tree!
Why murmur, then, that He should seek to make thee
Holy, and pure, and fit with Him to be?
This world is not thy home!—cease thy weak clinging
To its frail reeds, O thou whose mansion blest
Is where Life's river flows with ceaseless singing
Through the fair Paradise where angels rest.

Be silent, Soul—in the great heavenly Temple,
The Master-Builder hath a niche for thee;
And thou must pass beneath His forming chisel,
If thou a goodly, polished stone wouldst be.
Bless God for every stroke that severs from thee
The gross and earthy, bringing to the light
The intrinsic worth His Spirit hath wrought in thee,—
The gem His hand would polish and make bright

Be silent, Soul!—thy God is ever near thee,
Whether thy path 'mid storm or sunshine lie,—
Whether the morning's tender radiance cheer thee,
Or rayless darkness veil the midnight sky!
What matter though thy pathway lone and dreary
Should all with weary, trembling feet be trod?
Enough for thee to know, thy Lord is near thee,
And the rough road leads up to Heaven and God!