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Religious Studies, Sketches and Poems

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

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The Secret

“Thou shalt keep them in the secret of thy presence from the strife of tongues.”

When winds are raging o’er the upper ocean,
  And billows wild contend with angry roar,
’Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion,
  That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore.

Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth,
  And silver waves chime ever peacefully;
And no rude storm, how fierce soe’er he flieth,
  Disturbs the sabbath of that deeper sea.

So to the soul that knows thy love, O Purest,
  There is a temple peaceful evermore!
And all the babble of life’s angry voices
  Die in hushed stillness at its sacred door.

Far, far away the noise of passion dieth,
  And loving thoughts rise ever peacefully;
And no rude storm, how fierce soe’er he flieth,
  Disturbs that deeper rest, O Lord, in thee.

O rest of rests! O peace serene, eternal!
  Thou ever livest and thou changest never;
And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth
  Fullness of joy, forever and forever.

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