They are not real—
The terror, sin, and pain
That seem to surge and billow endlessly!
They are not real!
May we but cling to that,
And hold so quietly, so firmly, to the fact
That we can walk
Serene into the seeming storm,
With holy consciousness
That all is well;
Nor let the waves of hatred, pride, or scorn
That rise resistant to the touch of Truth,
Disturb our quiet sense
That good alone is real.
So may we never pause to ask
If it were better to avoid the waves,
And wait for calmer seas;
But move triumphantly and joyously
Into whatever lies before our path,
So wrapped within the sacred calm
Of all-enfolding Love
That no intruding thought can harm;
So undisturbed, whatever be the claim,
That others, mesmerized by seeming ill.
May hear the healing message, "Peace, be still."
