Dear heart, perhaps you can not find God's hand
Or see His face through some hour of despair.
Do not be grieved, go seek the good, clean land.
And you will find Him there.

He is a part of every wind that sweeps
Across the furrows, down their upturned length.
Breathe deeply of it - here is where God keeps
Stored healing and stored strength.

Wander awhile down some still wooded way;
Stoop to the lichen, dig through the mossy sod.
Stir in the leafmold-and the feathery spray
Of a fern can show you God.

You can touch Him as you touch the bark of a tree;
You can hear His voice in the voice of the singing birds.
Dear God, may we listen-God, may we look and see
Thy face, and hear Thy words.