Saw the dread strife begun,
Didst teach adoring faith to cry,
“Thy will be done;”
By thy meek spirit, Thou, of all
That e’er have mourn’d, the chief—
Thou Saviour! if the stroke must fall,
Hallow this grief!
WHERE IS THE SEA?
SONG OF THE GREEK ISLANDER IN EXILE.
[A Greek Islander, being taken to the Vale of Tempe, and called upon to admire its beauty, only replied—“The sea—where is it?”]