[FATHER, HEAR!]
Thou, whose power assumes the form,
Now, of this wild wintry storm,
Let it still in mercy be
Shown upon the raging sea!
O! for him, who tosses there,
Father, hear this midnight prayer!
Solemn darkness shrouds the world;
While, with mighty wings unfurled,
Thus the winds in fury sweep
O’er the land, and o’er the deep,
Thou, whose thought from death can save,
Guard the life that ’s on the wave!
Cold and dreary is the night;
Snow-clouds wrap the beacon-light;
Rocks and ices, like a host
Armed for battle, bar the coast;
For the coming bark appear!
Guide her! save her! Father, hear!
[THE PILGRIM’S WAY SONG.]
I ’m bound to the house of my Father;
O draw not my feet from the way;
Nor stop me these wild flowers to gather!
They droop at my touch, and decay.
I think of the flowers, that are blooming
In beauty unfading above,
The wings of the angels perfuming,
Who fly down on errands of love.
Of earth’s shallow waters the drinking
Is powerless my thirst to allay;
Their taste is of tears, while we ’re sinking
Beside them, where quicksands betray.
I long, from that fount ever-living,
That flows by my Father’s own door,
With waters so sweet and life-giving,
To drink, and to thirst never more.
The gold of his bright, happy dwelling
Makes all lower gold to look dim;
Its treasures, all treasures excelling,
Shine forth to allure me to Him.
The pearls of this world while I ’m treading
In dust, where as pebbles they lie,
I seek the rich pearl, that is shedding
Its lustre so pure from on high.