The waves are merely lapping,
Strangely nearly still mere brushes on the sand.
Where are the wild crashing waves,
Hurling repeatedly like mad onto land?
In this peaceful sea’s depths You call to me,
“Come and sit and meditate a while,
Your heart and soul are troubled,
Cast off your burdens from each mile.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll meet You here Abba Father.
Your presence will warm me in the chill,
And Your comfort will be as gentle,
As the sea oats swaying on the hill.”
The waves will resume their wild crashing,
Slapping insistent at the shore,
And as always somewhere in Your heaven,
Waves are playing and laughing at Your door.
This world is but a badly reflected image,
Of the home You’ve prepared for us with You,
Where even the waves and grains of sand,
Sing honor and praise to You too.