The peace of God,
which passeth all understanding,
shall guard my heart and thoughts.

There is the peace that comes
when lowering clouds burst
and the whole landscape is drenched in rain,
refreshing and cool.

There is the peace that comes
when hours of sleeplessness
are swallowed up in sleep,
deeply relaxing and calm.

There is a peace that comes
when what has lurked so long
in the shadow of my mind
stands out in the light.
I face it, call it by its name,
for better or for worse.

There is a peace that comes
when sorrow is not relieved,
when pain is not required,
when tragedy remains tragedy,
stark and literal,
when failure continues through all the days
to be failure.

Is all this the peace of God?
Or is it the intimation of the peace of God?

The Peace of God
shall guard my heart and thoughts.

There are feelings, untamed and unmanageable
in my heart:
The bitterness of a great hatred, not yet absorbed;
The moving light of love, unrequited or
unfulfilled,
casting its shafts down all corridors of my days,
the unnamed anxiety brought on by nothing
in particular,
some strange foreboding of coming disaster
that does not yet appear;
The overwhelming hunger of God that
underscores all the ambitions, dreams and
restlessness of my churning spirit.

Hold them, O peace of God, until Thy perfect
work is in them fulfilled.

The Peace of God, which passes all understanding,
shall guard my heart and my thoughts.

Into God's keeping do I yield my heart and
thoughts, yea, my life –
with its strength and weakness
its failure and success,
its shame and its purity.

O Peace of God, settle over me and within me
so that I cannot tell mine from thine
and thine from mine.

Howard Thurman in Sermons on the Parables by Howard Thurman, David B. Gowler, Kipton E. Jensen