"Night airs"

The night is full of the soundof tinny transistorsplayed in the dark by the lonelywho lie in their beds, sleepless and sad,seeking comfort in quizzesand pop and a friendly voicerecounting the dire, the deadlynews of the worldas it spins to another dilatory dawn.

Fearful, we fill the night'slong hours with noise.Yet in the silence there is One to whomwe should be listening, Onewhose messages can turn the darkest roominto a little nest of consolation.He is our solacer, our saving God,who faileth never when we look to Him;and in whose arms we restat peace, sleep like cherished babes.

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Letters
LETTERS TO THE PRESS
April 12, 1982
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