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.