Explore "Everyday Religion" by Ruth Collie on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How far you seek, poor soul, to find your God, through such a maze of / noisy, foolish words, and yet they speak of Him -- each silent sod, / each crooning breeze, and all the singing birds. He dwells not in a / tenet or a creed, no roof can compass Him, nor walls enclose, but you / will find Him in the humblest weed and in the beauty of a budding / rose. Think you He cares for some high-sounding phrase, the gift / from lips that serve a subtle mind? Some homely household sounds / best sing His praise, and deeds that spring from hearts sincere and / kind. Why travel such a devious path and long, when sun and moon and / stars proclaim Him near? Hark to His voice, a throbbing, pleading / song, bidding us slay Intolerance and Fear. Return, oh soul, from / journeying afar; there is a quiet road, straight to your breast. / Travel this path, at rise of evening star, you'll find that He has / come to be your guest.