The tempests of darkness confound me,
Above me the deep waters roll,
But the arms of sweet Pity surround me,
And bear up my foundering soul.
“With a wild and mysterious commotion
The torrent flows, rapid and strong;
Towards a mournful and shadowy ocean
My vessel bounds fiercely along.
Ye waters of gloom and of sorrow,
How dread are your tumult and roar!
But, on! for the brilliant to-morrow
That dawns upon yonder bright shore!
“O Pilot, the great and the glorious,
That sittest in garments so white,
O’er death and o’er hell ‘The Victorious,’
The Way and the Truth and the Light,
Speak, speak to the darkness appalling,
And bid the mad turmoil to cease:
For, hark! the good Angels are calling
My soul to the haven of Peace.
“Now, ended all sighing and sadness,
The waves of destruction all spent,
I sing with the children of gladness
The song of immortal content.”
It would be a study of no ordinary interest to trace modern popular Protestantism back to the mythologic systems of which it is the resultant The early Fathers erred in regarding the ancient heresies as bastard forms of Christianity; they were distinct religions, feebly tinged by contact with the religion of the Cross. In like manner, I
