'T is true God comes to us in quiet moments
When sense is hushed, and thought in silent prayer
Is tuned to catch the wondrous strain which sweetens
The daily task, or stress of seeming care.
Oh, for the healing touch of heavenly angels
Which lifts the consciousness to heights above;
And through the Christ unfolds a purer impulse—
The heart's desire to prove that Life is Love!
Dear Father-Mother God! Thou leadest ever
In rising tones of tenderness and strength,
Beyond all discord into pure conception
Of heaven's eternal harmonies, at length.
