"Earth's fairest flowers grow
not on sunny plain,
But where some vast upheaval rent in twain the smiling land.
After the whirlwinds
devastating blast,
After the molten fire
and ashen pall,
God's still small voice breathes healing over all.
From riven rocks and
fern-clad chasms deep,
Flow living waters as from
hearts that weep,
There in the afterglow
soft dews distill
And angels tend God's plants when night falls still,
And the Beloved passing
by that way,
Will gather lilies at the
break of day.
~J.H.D.
