Just listen to the whispers in the quiet
of the dawn . . .
A thousand little muffled sounds along
the winds are born. . .
The gentle rustling of a tree, the
trembling leaves that sigh. . .
The reed that bends and quivers when
the breeze goes laughing by . . .
And in the silence of the hour when
twilight shadows fall. . .
when sunset spreads its golden cloak
of raidance over all.
The air is full of whispers, little
voices scarcely heard . . .
The tinkling of the elfin bells, the
calling of a bird . . .
And in the silence of the soul when
we are all alone. . .
God speaks to us in whispers, in a
language of His own . . .
Above the loud confusion of the mind
and of the will . . .
A gentle voice breathes through the
heart and whispers . . .
"Peace . . . be still."