John A. Shea.
God of the dark and heavy deep!
The waves lie sleeping on the sands,
Till the fierce trumpet of the storm
Hath summoned up their slumbering bands;
Then the white sails are dashed like foam,
Or hurry, trembling, o’er the seas,
Till, calmed by Thee, the sinking gale
Serenely breathes,—Depart in peace.
W. B. O. Peabody.