By Amy Carmichael
Thou art the Lord who slept upon the pillow,
Thou are the Lord who soothed the furious sea,
What matter beating wind and tossing billow
If only we are in the boat with Thee?
Hold us in quiet through the age-long minute
While Thou art silent, and the wind is shrill:
Can the boat sink while Thou, dear Lord, art in it?
Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The age-long minute
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