These thoughts!—they rush—I look into my soul
As down a gulf, and tremble at the array
Of fierce forms crowding it! Give strength to pray!
So shall their dark host pass.
The storm is still’d.
Father in Heaven! thou, only thou, canst sound
The heart’s great deep, with floods of anguish fill’d,
For human line too fearfully profound.
Therefore, forgive, my Father! if thy child,
Rock’d on its heaving darkness, hath grown wild,