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| IS this the peace of God, this strange sweet calm? | |
| The weary day is at its zenith still, | |
| Yet ’t is as if beside some cool, clear rill, | |
| Through shadowy stillness rose an evening psalm, | |
| And all the noise of life were hushed away, | 5 |
| And tranquil gladness reigned with gently soothing sway. | |
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| It was not so just now. I turned aside | |
| With aching head, and heart most sorely bowed; | |
| Around me cares and griefs in crushing crowd, | |
| While inly rose the sense, in swelling tide, | 10 |
| Of weakness, insufficiency, and sin, | |
| And fear, and gloom, and doubt in mighty flood rolled in. | |
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| That rushing flood I had no power to meet, | |
| Nor power to flee: my present, future, past, | |
| Myself, my sorrow, and my sin I cast | 15 |
| In utter helplessness at Jesu’s feet: | |
| Then bent me to the storm, if such his will. | |
| He saw the winds and waves, and whispered, “Peace, be still!” | |
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| And there was calm! O Saviour, I have proved | |
| That thou to help and save art really near: | 20 |
| How else this quiet rest from grief and fear | |
| And all distress? The cross is not removed, | |
| I must go forth to bear it as before, | |
| But, leaning on thine arm, I dread its weight no more. | |
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| Is it indeed thy peace? I have not tried | 25 |
| To analyze my faith, dissect my trust, | |
| Or measure if belief be full and just, | |
| And therefore claim thy peace. But thou hast died, | |
| I know that this is true for me, | |
| And, knowing it, I come, and cast my all on thee. | 30 |
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| It is not that I feel less weak, but thou | |
| Wilt be my strength; it is not that I see | |
| Less sin, but more of pardoning love with thee, | |
| And all-sufficient grace. Enough! and now | |
| All fluttering thought is stilled, I only rest, | 35 |
| And feel that thou art near, and know that I am blest. | |
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