[Written for the Sentinel.]


Over the sea of human fear,
Where winds and waves surged angrily,
The Master's voice rang soft and clear,
As o'er the sea he came to me.

I heard and felt his "Peace, be still,"
And gone was every shadow grave;
I looked, and lo, a joyous thrill!
He walked triumphant o'er the wave.

Why should I ever fear the storm?
Still o'er its waves my Lord I see;
In danger's hour I feel his calm,
And Love still lights my Calvary.

And ever, through the passing years,
That same sweet voice calls back to me:
"Oh, leave thy longings and thy tears,
Come, Simon Peter, follow me!

"Lovest thou me? Then feed my sheep,
And lead my lambkins tenderly;
The mountain path is long and steep,—
The fainting fold hath need of thee."

Now, through Christ's ministrations sweet,
Love heals the sick, the hungry feeds;
We leave our burdens at his feet,—
Rejoicing, following where he leads.

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