Above The Little Homes Of Men, Above The Noisy Teeming Streets, They
Rise Like Some Soft Strain Of Perfect Music, Cleaving Its Way Amid
The Jangle Of Discordant Notes.
Here, where the voices of the world
sound faint; here, where the city's glamour comes not in, it is good
to rest for a while - if only the pestering guides would leave one
alone - and think.
There is much help in Silence. From its touch we gain renewed life.
Silence is to the Soul what his Mother Earth was to Briareus. From
contact with it we rise healed of our hurts and strengthened for the
fight.
Amid the babel of the schools we stand bewildered and affrighted.
Silence gives us peace and hope. Silence teaches us no creed, only
that God's arms are around the universe.
How small and unimportant seem all our fretful troubles and
ambitions when we stand with them in our hand before the great calm
face of Silence! We smile at them ourselves, and are ashamed.
Silence teaches us how little we are - how great we are. In the
world's market-places we are tinkers, tailors, apothecaries,
thieves - respectable or otherwise, as the case may be - mere atoms of
a mighty machine - mere insects in a vast hive.
It is only in Silence that it comes home to us that we are something
much greater than this - that we are MEN, with all the universe and
all eternity before us.
It is in Silence we hear the voice of Truth.
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