Christ’s Voice In The Soul by Harriet Beecher Stowe

“Come ye yourselves into a desert place and rest a while; for there were many coming and going, so that they had no time so much as to eat.”

‘Mid the mad whirl of life, its dim confusion,
Its jarring discords and poor vanity,
Breathing like music over troubled waters,
What gentle voice, O Christian, speaks to thee?

It is a stranger–not of earth or earthly;
By the serene, deep fulness of that eye,–
By the calm, pitying smile, the gesture lowly,–
It is thy Savior as he passeth by.

“Come, come,” he saith, “into a desert place,
Thou who art weary of life’s lower sphere;
Leave its low strifes, forget its babbling noise;
Come thou with me–all shall be bright and clear.

“Art thou bewildered by contesting voices,
Sick to thy soul of party noise and strife?
Come, leave it all, and seek that solitude
Where thou shalt learn of me a purer life.

“When far behind the world’s great tumult dieth,
Thou shalt look back and wonder at its roar;
But its far voice shall seem to thee a dream,
Its power to vex thy holier life be o’er.

“There shalt thou learn the secret of a power,
Mine to bestow, which heals the ills of living;
To overcome by love, to live by prayer,
To conquer man’s worst evils by forgiving.”

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