Chapter II

Thy presence calms the raging seas,
And to the throbbing breast gives ease
Amid the tempest’s howl,
When waves appear as mountains high,
When swelling surges dash the sky,
And foaming billows roll;
When danger, with uplifted hand,
Proclaims th’ approaching doom,
Thou gently dost the stroke withstand,
And dissipates the gloom.
When caring, despairing,
And deeming all as lost,
Thy rays will portray still
The long expected coast.