Phineas F. Bresee - A Prince In Israel - Media Sabda Org

Silence here is unutterable desperation. The man who is declaring his determination, who is
giving voice to his feelings, who can find words for his passion, who can give utterance to his
intensity, is still dealing with surface conditions. There is passion too deep for utterance. The deepest
depths are unmoved by surface currents. There is a silence that is meaningless. Silence from the very
absence of thought or feeling or emotion. When feeling begins, there is usually an outcry; but when
feeling gets deep, the outcry ceases. I have often marked this at the altar. You are at the end of things.
You are through with arguments, through with appeals--simply gazing, with every power of the mind
alert, with every avenue open. The eye is strained, the ear is open, the hand outstretched. I am in one
mighty effort of discovery. I am looking for the unseen. I am open to visions of the infinite. I am
stretching out my hand to feel the robes of divine personality. I hear Him say, "Be still, and know
that I am God." From the depths of my soul I am gazing toward horizons. I am looking to the hills.
My mind is open to the avenues of His revelation. I look at the environments about me, the
universe in which I find myself. I am as one awakened in a great palace. I walk up and down the
halls. I open the doors and enter the great rooms. I look upon the magnificent pictures upon the walls,
and the fine sculptuary in the niches. I roam through the great library. There are couches here and
there, and I sit down to rest. I begin to wonder where the owner is. I admire the skill, the thought
back of it all. I lie down and rest, and wake and wonder. My curiosity is excited, and I press on. The
rooms are cleanly swept and everything is freshly dusted. I will find Him soon. I press on into the
parlor--a book lies open upon the desk; He can not be far away. I come to the dining-room; the table
is freshly spread with viands. I sit down and eat. So in this world: there is plan everywhere; marks
of His skill everywhere; footprints everywhere; prepared food; lighted fires; handiwork, care, and
planning everywhere.
The Ages
I turn my eyes out along the ages. Surely God is in His temple. I am unable to catch up with Him
in Nature, but surely I will find Him among men. Man is His masterpiece in creation-- man, the
thinker, the reasoner, the seeker after the cause of things, the moral being with a sense of right and
wrong; man with the ages for the platform of his activities; man working out his destiny. Surely, here
I will find God. I have sought Him there. I have walked slowly through a hundred generations. Men
have told me of Him. Men have told me that He had been among them; that He veiled Himself in
flame; that He hid Himself in light; how He manifested Himself in flesh; that they beheld His glory;
how He spoke in terrifying tones and in gentle whispers which soothed and blessed; how He had
overturned empires and kingdoms, and brought things to pass. But Him I found not. I have cried out
with Job, "O, that I knew him! " and with David, "As the hart panteth after the waterbrooks, so
panteth my soul after thee, O God."
Footsore, weary, and worn, I have sat down under the stars, with the shadows of the ages upon
me, and closing my eyes, I have said: "O, where is He whom my soul desireth to know? May I not
know Him in Agnosticism, the end, after all?" And I have heard clearly the voice, "Be still, and know
that I am God."
In Spiritual Realms