William Channing Gannett (1840–1923)

I HEAR it often in the dark,

I hear it in the light,—

Where is the voice that calls to me

With such a quiet might?

It seems but echo to my thought,

And yet beyond the stars;

It seems a heart-beat in a hush,

And yet the planet jars!

O, may it be that far within

My inmost soul there lies

A spirit-sky, that opens with

Those voices of surprise?

And can it be, by night and day,

That firmament serene

Is just the heaven where God himself,

The Father, dwells, unseen?

O God, within, so close to me

That every thought is plain,

Be judge, be friend, be Father still,

And in thy heaven reign!

Thy heaven is mine,—my very soul!

Thy words are sweet and strong,

They fill my inward silences

With music and with song.

They send me challenges to right

And loud rebuke my ill;

They ring my bells of victory,

They breathe my “Peace, be still!”

They ever seem to say: My child,

Why seek me so all day?

Now journey inward to thyself,

And listen by the way!