1 On Horeb’s rock the prophet stood,--
The Lord before him passed:
A hurricane, in angry mood,
Swept by him strong and fast;--
The forests fell before its force,
The rocks were shivered in its course:
God was not in the blast,
God was not in the blast.

2 It ceased, The air grew mute; a cloud
Came, muffling up the sun;
When through the mountains, deep and loud,
An earthquake thundered on;--
The frightened eagle sprang in air,
The wolf ran howling from his lair:
God was not in the storm,
God was not in the storm.

3 ’Twas still again; and nature stood
And calmed her ruffled frame,
When, swift from heaven a fiery flood
To earth, devouring came;--
Down to the depth the ocean fled,
The sickening sun looked wan and dead:
God was not in the flame,
God was not in the flame.

4 At last, a voice, all still and small,
Rose sweetly on the ear;
Yet rose so shrill and clear, that all
In heaven and earth might hear;--
It spoke of peace, it spoke of love,
It spoke as angels speak above:
And God himself was there,
And God himself was there.