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Gloom deep as night in which there is no moon;
Times rushing down its darkening cloisters past
Conflicting thoughts, unhindered, blast on blast,
Until the very brain did shriek and rave in turn,
Reason’s control in madness by it spurned.
Sudden it ceased, one mighty wrench, then fled
And stillness o’er the whole its silence spread;
Whilst from the fullness of the immortal soul
Deep tender music did its charm unroll.
Lifting the burden from the anguished heart
Sent forth its floods and healed the inward smart;
So! in the midst is heard the Saviour’s voice,
Soulfully sweet, inviting to rejoice;
And there resounds divinely full and free,
“Sad, weary heart, be still and come to Me.”
Soon in the soul the sound of quiet rest
Breathes real and low and draws us to His breast,
Where Jesus, looking in our faces smiled,
Soothes us to sleep because He loves His child. —Oswald Chambers
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