Elegy for Dunkirk

The tender whisper of Thy call
As noiseless let Thy blessing fall
As fell Thy manna down
As fell Thy manna down

Drop Thy still dews of quietness
Till all our strivings cease
Take from our souls the strain and stress
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace
The beauty of Thy peace

Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire
O still, small voice of calm
O still, small voice of calm