Pouring these floods of deep surcease,—
In universal pain, release;
In universal travail, peace.
The strong right arm is here laid bare
In strife, by which He doth declare
Another shall not with Him share.
Forces of universal law
Which hither these vast waters draw
Send through my soul His tides of awe;
While universal radiance charms
And beckons to His winsome arms
To soothe my timid soul's alarms.
Of joy, of grief He does not rob,—
The light with intermittent throb
Falls on the waters glad—a-sob.
III.
Here He and I are conscious each
Of each—a Deep, a waiting beach!
A shell, a Sea that doth beseech!
How all unswift my eyes to see
The universal God in Thee,
Who walked the waves of Galilee!
Give, freely give—Thou dost not dole!
Pour chrismal balm upon my soul!
Anoint me from Thy golden bowl!
IV.