The tempest rages wild and high,
The waves lift up their voice and cry
Fierce answers to the angry sky,—
Miserere Domine.
Through the black night and driving rain,
A ship is struggling, all in vain,
To live upon the stormy main;—
Miserere Domine.
The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
Vain is it now to strive or dare;
A cry goes up of great despair,—
Miserere Domine.
The stormy voices of the main,
The moaning wind and pelting rain
Beat on the nursery window pane:—
Miserere Domine.
Warm curtained was the little bed,
Soft pillowed was the little head;
"The storm will wake the child," they said:—
Miserere Domine.
Cowering among his pillows white
He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright,
"Father, save those at sea to-night!"—
Miserere Domine.
The morning shone all clear and gay,
On a ship at anchor in the bay,
And on a little child at play,—
Gloria tibi Domine!
Adelaide Anne Procter.