Emblem, when life's day is closing In the mansions of the blest; Where the wicked cease from troubling, Watton, 1847. III. 66 "AND SO HE BRINGETH THEM TO THE HAVEN WHERE THEY WOULD BE." YES, billow after billow - see they come Faster and rougher, as her little boat Nears evermore the haven. Oftentimes It seems to sink and fall adown the wave, As if borne backward by the struggling tide: Yet mounting billow after billow, wave On wave o'er-riding, tempest-tost and shatter'd, Still, still it nears the haven evermore. "Poor mariner, art thou not sadly weary?" Dear brother, rest is sweeter after toil. "Grows not thine eye confused and dim with sight Of nothing but the wintry waters?" True, But then my pole-star, constant and serene, The rudder from my feeble hands the while And I cling to it. Mariner, what think'st thou when the waters bear Thy frail boat backward from the long'd-for harbor?" Oh, brother, though innumerable waves Still seem to rise betwixt me and my home I know that they are number'd: not one less The last rough wave shall bear me on its bosom No billows after-they are number'd, brother. My tears shall flow for thee, but they are tears Watton, 1847. A NIGHT AT SANDGATE. It was a strange and fearful night that same: Was Pilot of our vessel, and He held At beck the whirlwinds and the storms and clouds; And He seem'd with us, saying, 66 Fear Lo! I am with you alway: in the world ye not, Ye shall have tribulation; let your hearts Be of good cheer, O ye of little faith, For I, your Lord, have overcome the world." So in to one another's eyes we look'd, And found there sorrow and dismay? nay, found Such high enthusiast hopes as burn, like stars Of sufferings to be suffer'd and for Him, Amid that company were two who long Had held bright standards in the warrior host Of God - brave hearts and as we heard them tell Of conflicts deepening ever on the skirts The evening wore away: and one by one |