He gives quietness in the midst of the raging storm. As we sail the lake with Him, reaching deep water and far from land, suddenly , under the midnight sky, a mighty storm sweeps down. Earth and hell seem mobilized against us, and each wave threatens to overwhelm our boat. Then He rises from His sleep and rebukes the wind and the waves. He wave s His hand, signaling the end of the raging tempest and the beginning of the restful calm. His voice is heard above the screaming of the wind through the ropes and rigging, and over the thrashing of the waves.

“Quiet! Be still!” (Mark 4:39). Can you not hear it? And instan tly there is a great calm. “He giveth quietness”— quietness even in the midst of losing our inner strength and comforts . Sometimes He removes these because we make too much of them. We are tempted to look at our joys, pleasures, passions, or our dreams, with too much self-satisfaction. Then through His gracious love He withdraws them, leading us to distinguish between them and Himself. He draws near and whispers the assurance of His presence, bringing an infinite calm to keep our hearts and minds. “He giveth quietness.”

“He giveth quietness.” O Elder Br other , Whose homeless feet have pr essed our path of pain, Whose hands have borne the bur den of our sorr ow, That in our losses we might find our gain.

Of all Y our gifts and infinite consolings, I ask but this: in every tr oubled hour To hear Y our voice thr ough all the tumults stealing, And r est ser ene beneath its tranquil power .

Cares cannot fr et me if my soul be dwelling In the still air of faith’ s untr oubled day; Grief cannot shake me if I walk beside you, My hand in Y ours along the darkening way .

Content to know ther e comes a radiant morning When fr om all shadows I will find r elease; Serene to wait the raptur e of its dawning— Who can make tr ouble when Y ou send me peace?