 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
Heavenly Silence
Above this air we breathe, a mantling bound,No hint ascends of thunder's awful roar,
Shrill wind, or ocean breaking on the shore,
Or the loud battle; but, without a sound,
The balanced orbs fulfil their glorious round
Through silent depths of space for evermore;
Like angels prostrate on Heaven's shining floor,
Where for our discords harsh no place is found.
Lord, even here such stillness let me gain,
And o'er the world's disturbing voices rise;
Now let the peace of God within me reign,
Reflecting the calm order of the skies:
And while beneath my feet earth's noises roll,
Mine be the heavenly silence of the soul
| Lyra Pastoralis | |