God speaketh
In the heart's deep silences,
When human sense is barred the way,
And errant thought beats harmless at the gate.
Make way for God,
Ye restless thoughts
That wander aimless to and fro;
Ye idlers,
That do busy-body with eternity;
Ye alien fancies,
That throng the Happy Isles of Quietness;
Ye anxious cares,
That spendthrift solitude;
Ye foreboding fears,
That storm the citadel of holiness—
Make way for God!
God speaketh
In the temple of the Spirit;
And one listening,
Waits the coming
Of the "angels of His presence," "The People's Idea of God," by Mrs. Eddy, page 1
Those messengers
Who fill the silence
With their songs of praise.
