Poem September 20, 1947 Issue

STILL VOICE

Myrtle Daugherty

Now material sense is hushed,
I hear the still voice.
No word, no language can be heard,
But comfort of the Comforter,
The soft, still voice.

Gratefully I slip away
From human will's bleak urgency.
Refrain in monotone, demanding:
"Bricks without straw! Bricks without straw!
Make more bricks! Make bricks without straw!"
How shall I make, where all is made,
While here the universe of Mind
Speaks through the soft, still voice?

How healing, Love, Your quiet speaking,
Here in the city's very heart.
Your presence is Your voice,
Your allness is Your voice.

Myrtle Daugherty

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