St. Mary's

Back to where the roses rest

Round a shrine of holy name,

( Yes — they knew me when I came )

More of peace and less of fame

Suit my restless heart the best.

Back to where long quiets brood,

Where the calm is never stirred

By the harshness of a word,

But instead the singing bird

Sweetens all my solitude.

With the birds and with the flowers

Songs and silences unite,

From the morning unto night;

And somehow a clearer light

Shines along the quiet hours.

God comes closer to me here —

Back of ev'ry rose leaf there

He is hiding — and the air

Thrills with calls to holy prayer;

Earth grows far, and heaven near.

Every single flower is fraught

With the very sweetest dreams,

Under clouds or under gleams

Changeful ever — yet meseems

On each leaf I read God's thought.

Still, at times, as place of death,

Not a sound to vex the ear,

Yet withal it is not drear;

Better for the heart to hear,

Far from men — God's gentle breath.

Where men clash, God always clings:

When the human passes by,

Like a cloud from summer sky,

God so gently draweth nigh,

And the brightest blessings brings.

List! e'en now a wild bird sings,

And the roses seem to hear

Every note that thrills my ear,

Rising to the heavens clear,

And my soul soars on its wings

Up into the silent skies

Where the sunbeams veil the star,

Up — beyond the clouds afar,

Where no discords ever mar,

Where rests peace that never dies.

So I live within the calm,

And the birds and roses know

That the days that come and go

Are as peaceful as the flow

Of a prayer beneath a psalm.