HYMNS FOR CHILDHOOD.
49
And the wind ceas'd—it ceas’d!—that word
Pass'd through the gloomy sky;
The troubled billows knew their Lord,
And fell beneath His eye.
And slumber settled on the deep,
And silence on the blast;
They sank, as flowers that fold to sleep
When sultry day is past.
Oh! thou, that in its wildest hour
Didst rule the tempest's mood,
Send thy meek spirit forth in power
Soft on our souls to brood.
Thou that didst bow the billow's pride
Thy mandate to fulfil,
Oh! speak to passion's raging tide,
Speak, and say, "Peace, be still!"
E
