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From Satan's breath, from Herod's sword,
SLEEPING ON THE WATERS.
“ And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow : and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish ?”
WHILE snows, even from the mild South-west,
Come blinding o'er all day,
For flower or fragrant spray,
Where fires are bright within,
And doors are closed on sin ?
The scarlet tufts so cheerily
Look out upon the snow,
Whose guardian care they know.
The buds that in that nook are born
Through the dark howling day Old Winter's spite they laugh to scorn :
What is so safe as they ?
Nay, look again : beside the hearth
The lowly cradle mark, Where, wearied with his ten hours' mirth,
Sleeps in his own warm ark
As though the slumberous dew
Upon his Guardian true.
may rush in, and crimes and woes Deform the quiet bower ;They may not mar the deep repose
Of that immortal flower.
To watch his cradle by,
No touch of harmful eye.
So gently slumber'd on the wave
The new-born seer of old, Ordained the chosen tribes to save ;
Nor dream'd how darkly rollid
Perchance even now defiled
Blood of some priestly child.
What recks he of his mother's tears,
His sister's boding sigh ? The whispering reeds are all he hears,
And Nile, soft weltering nigh, Sings him to sleep ; but he will wake,
And o'er the haughty flood Wave his stern rod ;—and lo ! a lake,
A restless sea of blood !
Soon shall a mightier flood thy call
And outstretch'd rod obey ;To right and left the watery wall
From Israel shrinks away
Such honour wins the faith that
gave Thee and thy sweetest boon Of infant charms to the rude wave,
In the third joyous moon.
Hail, chosen Type and Image true
Of Jesus on the Sea !
Shadowed of old by thee.
The summer stream beside, He on a wider wilder deep,
Where boding night-winds sigh'd :
Sigh'd when at eve He laid Him down,
But with a sound like flame
Upon His slumbers came.-
Around His rude low bed :
So near His sacred Head !