"AND HE AROSE AND REBUKED THE WIND, AND SAID UNTO THE SEA, PEACE, BE STILL."
Night mantles Judea but the star has not shone
On thy bosom, Galilee,--
The tempest is loud, yet the barque alone
Is labouring o'er the sea:
The Master, entranced, rides the turbulent wave,
O say, shall its depths yield the Godhead a grave?
Heeds not the Redeemer the thunder's increase?
Shall he not the proud whirlwind disarm?
For see, he has gone to the slumbers of peace,
With Jesus all is calm.
By his waves and his tempest the Maker is tossed;
In his innocent dreams the Sleeper is lost.
The disciples in terror have sprung from their rest,
Yet vain is the shipmen's skill,
Till aroused HE of Nazareth proclaims the behest:
"Ye billows, peace, be still!"
The billows obedient have sunk on the shore,
The sea sleeps in murmurs, the tempest is o'er.
O thus, when my soul on life's ocean is tossed,
That sea without a calm--
When faith shines but dimly each hope is lost,
And all is rude alarm:
When the waves of rememberance in mountain wreaths roll,
When the billows of sin have gone over my soul:
At the Cross of the Sufferer while humbled to weep,
I mourn my stubborn will;
Do thou, in compassion, rebuke the deep
And whisper, "Peace! be still!"
The billows obedient will die on the shore,
The sea sleep in murmurs, the tempest be o'er.
