University of Virginia Library

Lone on the beatific mound,
When evening's shadows closed around,
The band have left their leader there,
In orison which none might share;
And they have sought the sacred sea,
That laves the shores of Galilee.

But had the adversary power
To harass in that darkling hour,
That vengeful turned the tide, the gale,
Against the fisher's struggling sail?
Though stout of arm and strong of will,
His strength is spent and foiled his skill;
The night's fourth watch is almost closed,
Nor the tired mariner reposed.
Oh! vain to toil 'gainst wind and wave,
And sunk the heart the hope to save,
And lo! is yon shape the mist of storm,
Or whence, or what, that dubious form
That seems athwart the wave to glide,
That burst anon our barque beside?
Is it his shade, the man austere,
Of desert haunts the deep-voiced seer?
What dread commission brings him here?
Or is the shadowy semblance he
Late of the chosen company,
The first that Herod's vengeance proved,
The brother of the best beloved?
Comes he to speak that brother's doom,
And tell us of a wat'ry tomb,
At such dread time of doubt and fear,
That aught unearthly should draw near?
When lo! with face as beams our sunbeams bright,
With robe all whitening in the light,
(But once again on Tabor's height,
In after days they saw that sight,)
Treading the tempest to their aid.
He calls—“'Tis I, be not afraid!”
Their leader stands confessed;
The hushed wind is at rest,
And like an infant at his will,
Low at his feet the wave lies still.
Such power to One alone is given;
That One on earth, who came from heaven!

Or when upon that mystic sea,
We cross in life's extremity,
When to worn barque and shattered sail
No human art can more avail,
The latest night-watch nearly o'er,
Nor morning gilds the distant shore;
Again may that resplendent form
Dispel the cloud and still the storm,
Come to the trembling suppliant's aid—
“'Tis I, be not afraid!”