Flood, over, my soul, heavens peace,
And warm my heart weary with toil;
Bid sunshine and love never cease,
Or bring forth a tempest to spoil.

Enfold me protect me and shield,
Like mists all my whole being thrill
Beside the staunch trees of the field
We pause in the evening still.

Peace—What is its treasure today,
How many lie dead at its shrine
But still God has offered always,
That peace that may always be mine.

Oh wash me and I shall be white,
In that peace Oh, let me abide,
What then shall my soul ever fright,
If God doth my footsteps but guide?