A BIBLE STORY.
They told a story to me, when a child,
Ere I could read, that fill'd my heart with awe,
And wondering love,—a story of the Sea,
And Him who walked upon it.
Dreary night
Settled on Galilee, and angry winds
Lash'd the rebellious waves. Yet o'er their heads
Toss'd high in maddening fury, Jesus came,
As calm, as tho' the smooth, green earth he trod.
A storm-driven ship was there, and the strain'd eyes
Of the vex'd mariners, were wildly fix'd
On him astonish'd,—for they did not know
The Master, in that hour. Then, his blest voice
Assur'd their fainting hearts, and full of joy,
Peter, with eager footstep, fain would go
To meet his Lord.
The loud and boisterous blast
Swept through his locks, and the cold surge rose high
Around his shuddering breast, and his foot fail'd
Amid the awful tides.
"Oh save!" he cried,—
"Save! or I perish!"
Jesus stretch'd his hand
And snatch'd him from the waves. Then on the deck
Amid the glad disciples, safe he stood,
Fill'd with adoring gratitude,—while all
Gave praise and glory to the Son of God.
So Peter learn'd it was not given to man
To plant his foot upon the stormy main
And rule its wrath, for in its thundering might
It sweeps him like a noteless weed away.
This Bible story was most sweet to me,
As on my childish ear, from lips revered,
At eventide it fell. And much I mused
On that Redeemer's power, who made the sea
A peaceful pavement for his feet divine.
And afterwards, on Ocean's awful breast,
When reef, and tempest threatened, or the power
Of the dread iceberg chill'd our veins with awe,
Methought I saw Him walking on the Sea
With hand outstretch'd, the trusting soul to save,
And so, was comforted.