THE hold that falls not when the town is got,
The heart’s heart whose immurèd plot
Hath keys yourself keep not! . . .
Its keys are at the cincture hung of God;
Its gates are trepidant to His nod;
By Him its floors are trod.
THAT is the way to be immovable in the midst of troubles, as a rock amidst the waves. When God is in the midst of a kingdom or city, He makes it firm as Mount Zion, that cannot be removed. When He is in the midst of a soul, though calamities throng about it on all hands, and roar like the billows of the sea, yet there is a constant calm within, such a peace as the world can neither give nor take away. What is it but want of lodging God in the soul, and that in His stead the world is in men’s hearts, that makes them shake like leaves at every blast of danger?
O FRIEND, never strike sail to a fear! Come into port greatly, or sail with God the seas. Not in vain you live, for every passing eye is cheered and refined by the vision.
Ralph Waldo Emerson