And this eternal sound—
Voices and footfalls of the numberless throng—
Like the resounding sea,
Or like the rainy tempest, speaks of Thee.
And when the hour of rest
Comes like a calm upon the mid-sea brine,
Hushing its billowy breast—
The quiet of that moment too is Thine
It breathes of Him who keeps
The vast and helpless city while it sleeps.