Let me seek, then, the gift of silence, and poverty, and solitude, where everything I touch is turned into a prayer: where the sky is my prayer, the birds are my prayer, the wind in the trees is my prayer, for God is all in all.
Let candles burn, both warm and bright,
Which to our darkness Thou has brought,
When we are wrapped in silence most profound,
May we hear that song most fully raised
From all the Unseen World that lies around
And Thou art by all Thy children praised.
Night and morning, You are by us faithfully
And surely at each newborn day.