peace comes stealing slow
falls like silent snow
swings down sweet and low
peace comes stealing slow
Kate Campbell sings these words her album Blues and Lamentations. Kate has this amazing voice that articulates with such clarity the beauty of these words, which I he
ard somewhere were inspired by a poem of William Butler Yeats.
However, as my study of Yeats’ poetry has not been too, shall we say, extensive, I have no idea if this is true.
But I am interested by the idea of peace stealing slow. Every single Sunday in worship we throw around peace like a hot potato: the peace of the Lord be with you, be at peace, go in peace . . . as if peace is something we can manufacture. Or manually place on top of the life of another. Or forcefully will into our own lives.
Kate (or Bill) says, though, that peace steals up on you slowly.
In my experience, that’s usually too slow for my liking.
And it seems to me that peace, the kind of peace you just want to sink back into, though thoroughly unpredictable, comes only after a battering storm-when you’ve reached your absolute limit.
Peace whispers in your ear tenaciously until you can finally hear it; it settles over you when you had just steeled yourself for the next wave to hit; it sneaks up on you stealthily . . . until you all of the sudden feel the utter relief enveloping you completely.
Peace.
How I wish I could manufacture it instantaneously: apply a salve of peace to a raw hurt, or write a prescription for preventative peace-you know, to avoid the storm altogether. Not being sure that I’ve lived long enough to notice it sneaking up on me, I have lived long enough to know I’ve had very bad luck writing prescriptions for peace.
So I guess I’ll pray right along with Kate (or Bill):
peace come stealing slow
fall like silent snow
swing down sweet and low
peace come stealing slow
The Yeats poem is “The Lake Isle of Innisfree.” Here are the pertinent (and beautiful) lines:
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
Amy, I’ve enjoyed reading your blog – you’re a great thinker!
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
William Butler Yeats
I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core
I remember a story Daddy told as a sermon illustration to illustrate peace. It seems there was a contest for an artist to draw a picture of peace. The winner was not the pastoral scene, nor the calm lake view, nor any of the expected peaceful vistas. Instead, the winner showed a raging sea with wild winds blowing across a crag overlooking the waters. Atop the crag was a mother eagle spreading her wings around her babies.
Maybe real peace is not absence of storm or after the storm but within the storm.
That’s a great way to look at Peace, thanks for sharing that.
That’s along the lines of what we set about getting across on a cd project we just finished called Peace from Within.
Thanks and Peace
Steve