The earth has grown old with its burden of care but in truth it always is young The heart of the jewel burns lustrous and fair, and its soul full of music breaks the air When the song of angels is sung.
Everything faded -- beside
The light which bathed and warmed, the Presence
Your being had opened to. Where it shone,
Their life was, and abundantly; it touched
Your dullest task and the tasks were easy.
Joyful, absorbed,
You "'practiced the presence of God" as a Musician
Practices hour after hour his art:
"A stone before the carver,"
You "entered into yourself."
~ Denise Levertov on Brother Lawrence's conversion
