I ask you, my friends, to be still;
and know that I am here with you.
The longing in your heart I will fill;
for I now make my home in you.
The mountains, the valleys, the oceans deep
sing praises and glory to you.
And all of creation joins in song;
but man finds you within.
The crowds on the hill sides need your brea.
The lame need your healing hand.
The blind and the dumb cry out for you;
when will men understand?