For nature sees the hosts of heaven
Resent her cold and heartless freaks.
The storm grew still, and I could see
The clouds above the cliff disband,
E’en as the wave on Galilee
Grew docile at the Lord’s command;
And as I shake from off my pen
The ink that stamped these pictures chill,
I seem to hear those words again
Breathed softly o’er me, “Peace, be still.”