'Mid all the traffic of the ways,
Turmoils without, within,
Make in my heart a quiet place,
And come and dwell therein;
A little shrine of quietness,
All sacred to Thyself,
Where Thou shalt all my sould possess,
And I may find myself;
A little shelter from life's a stress,
Where I may lay me prone,
And bare my soul in loneliness,
And know as I am known.
A little place of mystic grace,
Of self and sin swept bare,
Where I may look upon Thy face,
And talk with Thee in prayer.
By J. Oxenham
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