Not always as the whirlwind's rush

On Horeb's mount of fear

Not always as the burning bush

To Midian's shepherd seer,

Nor as the awful voice which came

To Israel's prophet bards,

Nor as the tongues of cloven flame,

Nor gift of fearful words, -

Not always thus, with outward sign

Of fire or voice from Heaven,

The message of a truth divine,

The call of God is given!

Awaken in the human heart

Love for the true and right, -

Zeal for the Christian's better part,

Strength for the Christian's fight.

Nor unto manhood's heart alone

The holy influence steals:

Warm with a rapture not its own,

The heart of woman feels!

As she who by Samaria's wall

The Savior's errand sought, -

As those to who with the fervent Paul

And meek Aquila wrought:

Or those ones whose martyrdom

Rome's grandeur saw:

Or those who in their Alpine home

Braved the Crusader's war,

When the green Vaudois, trembling heard.

Through all its vales of death,

The martyr's song of triumph poured

From woman's failing breath.

And gently, by a thousand things

Which o'er our spirits pass,

Like breezes o'er the harp's fine strings,

Or vapors o'er a glass,

Leaving their token strange and new

Of music or of shade,

The summons to the right and true

And merciful is made.

O, then, if gleams of truth and light

Flash o'er thy waiting mind,

Unfolding to thy mental sight

The wants of human-kind;

If, brooding over human grief,

The earnest wish is known

To soothe and gladden with relief

An anguish not thine own;

Though heralded with naught of fear,

Or outward sign or show;

Though only to the inward ear

It whispers soft and low;

Though dropping, as the manna fell,

Unseen, yet from above,

Noiseless as dew-fall, heed it well, -

Thy Father's call of love!