THE BILLOW'S ANSWER
Not all unanswered now—the question of my soul
Asked of the cliff's age-furrowed brow,—lost in the billow's roll—
For softer, grander, than human speech
Are the answering thoughts, that soothe and teach.
Thoughts launched by God, like sea-weed thrown
On the restless waves of Life's great unknown;
Cast up on Life's wave-washed beach,
Pure, calm, as a dove to its sheltered nest,
My answer came on the wave's white crest.
Asked of the cliff's age-furrowed brow,—lost in the billow's roll—
For softer, grander, than human speech
Are the answering thoughts, that soothe and teach.
Thoughts launched by God, like sea-weed thrown
On the restless waves of Life's great unknown;
Cast up on Life's wave-washed beach,
Pure, calm, as a dove to its sheltered nest,
My answer came on the wave's white crest.
The question: this was the troubled thing
A mourning dove—with a broken wing.
"Tell me, O billows, that roll on roll,
Speak more than all things to the human soul!
Why must one spirit feel every dart
That has thrust the body or pierced the heart?
Mental and physical, heart and brain
Is there left one link in Life's golden chain
That has not quivered with human pain?"
A mourning dove—with a broken wing.
"Tell me, O billows, that roll on roll,
Speak more than all things to the human soul!
Why must one spirit feel every dart
That has thrust the body or pierced the heart?
Mental and physical, heart and brain
Is there left one link in Life's golden chain
That has not quivered with human pain?"
The answer: this was the heavenly thing
A peaceful dove with silvered wing
That fluttered down from the billow's crest
And crossed its wings on a troubled breast—
"Thou art given the priceless jeweled key,
That unlocks the great heart of humanity;
Thou hast felt their labor, their strife, their pain,
Their weary heartaches, their grief and care;
Their bitter struggles and dark despair.
May not one knock at thy door in vain!
A peaceful dove with silvered wing
That fluttered down from the billow's crest
And crossed its wings on a troubled breast—
"Thou art given the priceless jeweled key,
That unlocks the great heart of humanity;
Thou hast felt their labor, their strife, their pain,
Their weary heartaches, their grief and care;
Their bitter struggles and dark despair.
May not one knock at thy door in vain!
O little dove with thy folded wings!
O billows, that utter such wondrous things!
Ye are thoughts from God, let Him send at choice,
The ocean thunder, the still small voice;
If they speak from One, who alone can know
The height and the depth of our human woe;
Who has felt each pang of our mortal breath,
Sin's serpent-fang and the night of death,
And Who o'er the waves of Life's troubled sea
Calls to the suffering: "Come unto Me."
O billows, that utter such wondrous things!
Ye are thoughts from God, let Him send at choice,
The ocean thunder, the still small voice;
If they speak from One, who alone can know
The height and the depth of our human woe;
Who has felt each pang of our mortal breath,
Sin's serpent-fang and the night of death,
And Who o'er the waves of Life's troubled sea
Calls to the suffering: "Come unto Me."