A Small Still Voice
Through this tempest dark I hear
That small still voice of love
Which fills me now with cheer
And faith in the One above.
Oh dreadful storm approaching
Hurling downward spears of fright
Your thunderous encroaching
Is bereft now of its might!
What horrors now instill thee
Seeking hearts to destitute?
Why bid you to harass me
And my peace to prosecute?
For naught bids as highly priced
As God's promise kept in Christ.
Timothy I Brumley
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