THE AGED BISHOP.
81
While o'er the broad and branching bay,
Which like a heart doth pour
A living tide, in countless streams,
Through fair Virginia's shore,
O'er Rappahannock's fringed breast,
O'er rich Potomac's tide,
Or where the bold, resistless James
Rolls on, with monarch-pride,
The boats that ask nor sail nor oar,
With speed majestic glide,
And many a thoughtful pastor leans
In silence o'er their side,
And, while he seems to scan the flood
In silver 'neath him spread,
Revolves the charge, "Be strong for God
When your old bishop's dead."
