p. 550 | PEACE by Frances R. Havergal

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Dec 7, 1882

PEACE.

By Frances R. Havergal

Is this the peace of God, this strange, sweet calm? The weary day is at its zenith still; Yet 'tis as if, beside some cool, clear rill, Through shadowy stillness rose an evening psalm, And all the noise of life were hushed away, And tranquil gladness reigned with gentle, soothing sway.

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, Of weakness, insufficiency and sin, And fear, and gloom, and doubt in mighty flood rolled in.

That rushing flood I had no strength to meet, Nor power to flee; my present, future, past, Myself, my sorrow, and my sin I cast, In utter helplessness at Jesus' feet; Then bent me to the storm, if such His will. He saw the winds and waves, and whispered, "Peace, be still."

And there was calm. O Saviour, I have proved That thou to help and save art really near; 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.

Is it, indeed, thy peace? I have not tried 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, and true for me, And knowing it, I come, and cast my all on thee.

It is not that I feel less weak, but thou Wilt be my strength; it is not that I see Less sin, but there is pardoning love with thee, And all-sufficient grace. Enough! And now I scarce can think or pray, I only rest, And feel that thou art near, and know that I am blest. —Frances R. Havergal.