Dark and cold we may be, but this
Is no winter now: the frozen misery
Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move:
The thunder is the thundering of the floes,
The thaw, the flood, the upstart spring.
Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us til we take
The longest stride of soul we ever took.
Affairs are now soul-size.
The enterprise
Is exploration into God.
This is called the Temple of Silence, the Place of Power; for when we reach the place of silence in mind, we have reached the place of power -- the place where all is one, the one power -- God... Only as we turn from the without to the silence of the within can we hope to make conscious union with God... God does not speak so much in the fire, the earthquake, or the great wind, as in the still, small voice -- the still, small voice deep in our own souls.