Which led those men, so humble now, with firm and dauntless mien,
Tortures to brave, and even death, with hearts firm and serene;
But why their looks of earnest awe, now bent towards the shore?
Why are those features roused to life, so still and calm before?
Mark you, on yonder point that form? is it of earth or heaven?
Though lowly are his robes, such grace is not to mortals given,
Thy coast, O favored Galilee! Such foot ne’er pressed before;
Such voice, O lovely lake! ne’er waked the echoes of thy shore.
Mark but that pure and holy brow, where heaven’s own perfect peace
Sits calm enthroned, and bids the world’s tumultuous passions cease.