Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace when other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice, I draw myself apart, searching my soul?
Where when my aching grows, where, when I languish, where, in my need to know, where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.
He answers privately, reaches my reaching in my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.
Gentle the peace...
