My silence is the Lord,
I listen, his silence speaks at all time.
When I listen not, my hearing is filled with words
and my tongue takes to rambling.
My resting place is the Lord
a hideaway on a mountain height.
The lonely seek and find him.
My resting place is the Lord,
a low valley by the runlet.
All humble steps lead there.
“Turn in to my place and sit quietly.
Drink from my stream and my vintage.
Cast off your shoes, discard your hardships
and listen to my evening song:
“I seek a heart that is simple.
With the peaceful I spread my tent.
I will wash your feet and dry them,
my silence will be their perfume.
“In your quiet steps I will follow.
None will know whence we come and where we go.
To the world you will be my silence,
in your passing they will hear me.
“In your absence I will be present.
Though you die, I Who Live am yours—
I live as yours forever.