I went in search of God today
and climbed a hill where I could pray,
I walked through fields of fragrant grass
and found a brook where He might pass,
then launched a boat upon the lake
but nowhere did the silence break;
I sat beneath the starry night
and waited signs of His great light,
then tired, dejected, I went home,
back through the fields, cross mountain's
dome–
without my God, without his grace,
no hand from heaven to embrace.
There, in the silence of my bed
made one more search, right in my head,
and cried out, "God, why do you hide?–
What game is this? How hard I've tried!
I've stalked you through the waiving fields
and waited where the water yields,
I've called to you ‘til voice is gone,
in darkest night and brightest dawn–
O God, why can't you hear my plea?
Please, God, don't turn away from me!"
So in the torment of that hour
I'd turn within to seek the Power,
and found there not the trumpet's blare,
no angel's song, no heav'nly glare;
‘twas but a candle flick'ring low
in soft and peaceful wav'ring glow;
a voice, gentle as a dove,
then spoke to me in tones of love
and said, "O Brother in the night,
why seek so loud the heav'nly light?
Does one fine spark within thy breast
not far outshine the heav'nly best?
Why seek me in the fields and sky?
Are we that separate, you and I?
No power in heaven can command
that part of God that's found in man."
This, I knew, was what I sought–
this, ‘tis true, is what was wrought;
I went in search of God today,
and found him there, right where I lay.
–Don Pendleton