In the silence that falls on my spirit
When the clamor of life loudest seems,
Comes a voice that floats in tremulous notes
Far over my sea of dreams.
I remember the dim old vestry,
And my father kneeling there;
And the old hymns thrill with the memory still
Of my father's voice in prayer.
I can see the glance of approval
As my part in the hymn I took;
I remember the grace of my mother's face
And the tenderness of her look;
And I knew that a gracious memory
Cast its light on that face so fair,
As her cheek flushed faint--O mother, my saint!--
At my father's voice in prayer.
'Neath the stress of that marvelous pleading
All childish dissensions died;
Each rebellious will sank conquered and still
In a passion of love and pride.
Ah, the years have held dear voices,
And melodies tender and rare;
But tenderest seems the voice of my dreams--
My father's voice in prayer.