Wednesday, 27 June 2007

More Amy Carmichael

Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose,

My rest from strife of tongues, my holy hill,

Fair is Thy pavilion, where I hold me still.

Back let them fall from me, my clamorous foes,

Confusions multiplied;

From crowding things of sense I flee, and in Thee hide.

Until this tyranny be overpast,

Thy hand will hold me fast;

What though the tumult of the storm increase,

Grant to Thy servant strength, O Lord, and bless with peace.

Amy Carmichael

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