Clouds come floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give colour to my sunset sky.
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It is the same life that emerges in joy through the dust of the earth into numberless waves of flower.
The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.
Dark clouds become heaven's flowers when kissed by light.
Now it is time to sit quiet, face to face with thee, and to sing dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.
One of the hardest things in life to accept is a called third strike.
The rain to the wind said, You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged - though not dead. I know how the flowers felt.
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