Beth Schafer: Music
Still Small Voice
(Beth Schafer)
The sun is much more brilliant shining on the ocean.
The rain is more majestic beating on the ground.
A flower paints it’s colors blooming in the desert.
A tear can warm my cheek as it trickles down.
I hear Your still, small voice
whispering in the West wind,
rushing down the mighty river,
rising with the dawn.
I hear Your still, small voice
in every precious minute,
but when I stop to listen it’s gone.
The sacred conversation happens without planning.
In the theatre of the holy the script ceases to be.
Suspended in the moment, time is hardly standing.
Measured by awareness You are measuring me.
The momentum of the spirit shouldn’t be disturbed.
In the noise of life You live if only to be heard.
I hear Your still, small voice
whispering in the West wind,
rushing down the mighty river,
rising with the dawn.
I hear Your still, small voice
in every precious minute,
but when I stop to listen it’s gone.