I’ve no great appreciation for poetry or paintings. High arts aren’t my thing. I’m inspired by people, ideas, events, but rarely blocks of words printed up on a page.
The final hymn in church last Sunday morning was Dear Lord and Father of Mankind. And unusually, the fourth and fifth verses of this familiar hymn caught my brain ...
With that deep hush subduing all
our words and works that drown
the tender whisper of Your call,
as noiseless let Your blessing fall
as fell Your manna down.
Drop Your still dews of quietness,
till all our strivings cease;
take from our souls the strain and stress,
and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of Your peace.
Will the busyness of a hectic week drown out voices that we should be listening to?
Can we find ways of ordering our lives in the middle chaos, and let go of the strain and stress before “all our strivings cease” (which sounds like poetry-speak for death)?