O, that you be quieted, my soul –
Not with the words of the wise
Nor with the arguments of kings
Not even by the sound of grand symphonies —
But that your depth would find its peace
In the deafening sound of the rushing river
In the persistent call of the mother wren
And in the silent proclamation of the midnight sky.

O, that you find peace, my heart –
Not in the prophesies of man
Nor in the preaching of the mortal
Not even in the endless wisdom of the books —
But that you find your rest
In the knowledge of the Holy
In the promise of the Eternal
And in the forgiveness of shed blood.

O, that you find rest, my mind –
Not in the possession of gold and silver
Nor in the bounty of feasting tables
Not even in the safety of fortified castles —
But that you would know the mind of God
In the bending of a tree in a storm
In the way a goose leads her goslings
And in the face of a sleeping infant.

“Let no one deceive himself. If anyone among you thinks that he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is folly with God. For it is written, “He catches the wise in their craftiness,” and again, “The Lord knows the thoughts of the wise, that they are futile.” So let no one boast in men. For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all are yours, and you are Christ’s, and mChrist is God’s.”
1 Corinthians 3:18-23

_{(Text and Pictures by Heidi Viars ©2024, Scriptures from the ESV)}