Love under and over, within and without Lifting and filling, my white sail taut My mast bends—though anchored strong Through meekness it lends Love’s primal song Humble rudder, Love’s still small voice Mortals need not shudder, immortals rejoice! The wind may blow, the earth may quake My ship lies low in Love’s pure wake There’s a shout, Land ahoy! My sail still taut, girded with joy Ship ready for anchor—sail to be folded and stored Is destiny met, do I pull for the shore? Yonder the vale, verdant pasture Will this wind fill my sail, will my rudder discover? Will I hear the call—that still, small voice? Will my mast stand tall, and is there a choice? Peace, be still Not my will With God at the helm, a magnificent source A spiritual realm, Love sets my course. — Rod Wagner.
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