"Joy is like restless day; but peace divine like quiet night; Lead me, O Lord, till perfect Day shall shine through Peace to Light"

Joy flashes like daylight at noon, vivid, energizing, and full of motion, yet it can also be scattered, dazzled by its own brightness, unable to rest. Peace, by contrast, resembles the night: still, receptive, and sheltering, a quiet in which the soul can breathe. The contrast does not condemn joy; it reveals why joy alone can tire the heart, while peace steadies it. In silence, subtler truths appear, as stars do when the sun relents.

“Lead me, O Lord” turns the contrast into a prayerful path. Peace is not merely a refuge from turmoil; it is the medium through which light becomes visible. The sequence is telling: Peace to Light, and finally the perfect Day. The soul does not seize illumination; it is guided into it, learning first to be calm, then to see, and at last to live fully in clarity. The quiet night is not a retreat from life but the womb of morning.

There is a paradox at work: night ushers in day; surrender becomes progress; stillness becomes movement. Human restlessness often mistakes stimulation for meaning. Divine peace, however, is not numbing resignation but attentive presence. It frees the heart from frantic grasping so that genuine joy can be rooted rather than fleeting, radiant without being blinding.

The prayer acknowledges dependence: the self cannot engineer its own perfect day. Peace is received, not fabricated; it is a gift that rearranges the inner weather, making the mind transparent enough for light to pass through. Then the world is not escaped but seen anew. Joy returns, tempered and deepened, no longer a restless glitter but a steady flame. The journey culminates when daylight shines through peace itself, a mature brightness that owes its clarity to the night that taught the heart to be still.