A seething surge of humanity
To break by the seaside moaning.
Up and down the shore, from the tattered edge
Of the ocean's silver shredded,
To the faint new moon and the little star
On the low horizon threaded,
A living wave from the world's great sea,
From its ceaseless, sad commotion,
Breaks with a song of praise and prayer
On the sands of the solemn ocean.
And the dear old hymns that have cradled saints—
Dear words that have been their pillow
To Jordan's edge, on the air ring out—
Through the psalm of the beating billow.
Whilst the ruddy sunset burns and glows
Till the gates ajar stand yonder,
And I hear a voice from the pulpit boat
Chime in with the billow's thunder:
"After this I looked, and behold a door
Was opened in heaven." The story
Six hundred voices bore along
In the words of the dream of glory.
"And before the throne was a sea of glass
Mingled with fire." Slow turning,
It seemed the shores of the crystal sea
Were under the sunset burning.
Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/282
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90
BEACH-SERVICE AT OCEAN GROVE.
