In flying air-born bubbles!
O joy that mocks our sad unrest,
And frowns our earth-born troubles!
With song and light and color,
Will shape our lives to richer states
And heap our measures fuller.
One may secure and preserve that repose in the turbulence of a great city—as Shakespeare surely found and preserved it in the London of the sixteenth century. For repose does not depend on external conditions; it depends on sound adjustment to tasks, opportunities, pleasures, and the general order of life.
Gracious Father, help me to understand that peace cannot abide in misery, nor can it stay with every mood. May I be able to overcome the depression that may keep me in sadness and isolation, and have delight in the gladness of friends, and live in the peace of strong resolutions. Amen.