Drop Thy still dews of quietness,

Till all our strivings cease;

Take from our souls the strain and stress,

And let our ordered lives confess.

The beauty of Thy peace, the beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire,

Thy coolness and Thy balm;

Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;

Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire.

O still, small voice of calm, O still, small voice of calm.

(Source: lookthesameinthedark, via moviesatthetheatres)