Upon the wall a little room,
Furnished, complete with loving care;
A bed, a candlestick are there,
A table, and a little stool.
A cool and shady spot by day,
A restful dwelling place by night,
Bathed by the moonbeams' silver light,
Where breezes from the mountains play.
The man of God could here repair
When hungry, travel-stained, and tired,
Until his thought was reinspired
By quiet thought and silent prayer.
Here others too could search for peace
With fearless faith and grateful heart,
And find the truth which will impart
A speedy and complete release.
The Shunammite who thus prepared
This quiet room upon the wall
Bequeaths a treasure to us all,
A precious treasure we have shared.
For in each heart there is a room
Above material dust and din,
Where consciousness may welcome in
The pure and perfect thoughts of Love.
And here, in dark and sunless hours,
When clouds would veil the might of Mind,
We may a sanctuary find
Where light will come at eventide.
No beast of prey can enter there,
The shade of death can never fall
Within our room upon the wall
Which Love hath furnished and prepared.
