by E. Nora Churchill
“Peace on earth,” you say, “how can it be?”
When men are talking war from day to day,
And nations are all ‘out’ with one another
Preparing tools to maim and kill each other,
“Impossible,” you say. “How can it be?”
But listen, friend, I’ll tell a little tale
To illustrate the thought I would convey.
Two artists planned a picture they would paint
To give alike to sinner and to saint
What they considered peace to be.
One took his brush and drew a landscape view,
A placid lake with trees around the way,
With flowers and grass and all things serene,
Not e’en a ripple on the lake was seen
To mar or spoil the beauty of the day.
The other threw upon his canvas there
A rugged rock thrust out in ocean far;
The wind and storm beat on its savage breast
But in a crevice there a little bird did rest
Securely on her nest without a care.
Thus, my friend, it is the same today:
All is not peace that looks most restful, fair;
But true peace can be had midst deepest stress,
When trials of every kind may sorely press
To baffle and annoy us on our way.
True peace is just an attitude of heart,
T’was promised to us by our Saviour, Lord,
He came to bring it to this world of woe,
That all who follow Him can have it now
By looking to His Holy Word.
“My peace.” He said, “I give to you my friends”
(Those who will ever follow His commands)
They hide each day His law within their breast,
So ever shall find perfect rest
And peace which none can give or take away.