“Pathways of Peace,” Ensign, July 1978, 37
Peace comes as silently as silvery mist,
Or pure white roses that the dew has kissed:
As clouds adrift in sunset’s afterglow,
Or desert stars or gently falling snow.
Then life is good again and hearts are warm.
After the battle’s din, after the storm.
As quietly as April leaves unfold,
As lovely as the harvest’s yield of gold,
Peace comes by pleasant paths to bless the state,
Where happy homes are free from greed and hate.
It comes not robed in scarlet with fanfare,
But by the humble ministry of prayer.