Poetry Archives

Hail! holy FAITH, on life’s wide ocean toss’d,
  I see thee sit calm in thy beaten bark;
  As NOAH sat, throned in his high-borne ark,
Secure and fearless while a world was lost!
In vain contending storms thy head enzone,
  Thy bosom shrinks not from the bolt that falls:
  The dreadful shaft plays harmless, nor appals
Thy stedfast eye, fix’d on Jehovah’s throne!
E’en though thou saw’st the mighty fabric nod,
  Of system’d worlds, thou hear’st a sacred charm,
  Graved on thy heart, to shelter thee from harm.
And thus it speaks:—”Thou art my trust, O GOD!
And thou canst bid the jarring-powers be still,
Each ponderous orb, subservient to thy will!”