Listening.

—William Channing Gannett.

I HEAR it often in the dark,
I hear it in the light,—
Where is the voice that calls to me
With such a quiet might?
It seems but echo to my thought
And yet beyond the stars;
It seems a heart-beat in a hush,
And yet the planet jars!

Oh, may it be that far within
My inmost soul there lies
A spirit-sky that opens with
Those voices of surprise?
And can it be, by night and day,
That firmament serene
Is just the heaven where God himself,
The Father, dwells unseen?

O God within, so close to me
That every thought is plain,
Be judge, be friend, be Father still
And in Thy heaven reign!
My heaven is mine, my very soul.
Thy words are sweet and strong,
They fill my inward silences
With Music and with Song.

They send me challenges to right
And loud rebuke my ill,
They ring my bells of victory,
They breathe my “Peace, be still!”
They ever seem to say, “My child,
Why seek Me so all day?
Now journey inward to thyself
And listen by the way.”

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