151
C. M.
Mighty to save.
The winds were howling o’er the deep;
Each wave a watery hill;
The Saviour wakened from his sleep;
He spake, and all was still.
2 The madman in a tomb had made
His mansion of despair;
Woe to the traveler who strayed,
With heedless footsteps, there.
3 He met that glance so thrilling sweet,
He heard those accents mild;
And, melting at Messiah’s feet,
Wept like a weanéd child.
4 O, madder than the raving man!
O, deafer than the sea!
How long the time since Christ began
To call in vain to me!
5 Yet could I hear him once again,
As I have heard of old,
Methinks he should not call in vain
His wanderer to the fold.
Heber.