Poem June 18, 1910 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel.]

"THAT ROCK WAS CHRIST."

BEN. HAWORTH-BOOTH.

Though the rough surge is thundering on the sand,
And wild white-horses o'er the sullen sea
Race with the raving wind, I take my stand,
Immovable in calm security,
Upon my rock, above the breakers hurled—
The rock of Christ, above a 'whelming world.

A 'whelming world of foul unfaith and folly
Around me high upheaves its threatening foam:
Its hydra-headed tide and tongues unholy
Would hurl destruction on my harmless home:
But, high above the billows' angry shock,
I set my feet unmoved upon the rock.

Upon the rock that doth outstand the storm
I rest in peace: the visions of the deep,
The tears and fears, the monsters multiform
Have spent their spleen or sobbed themselves to sleep:
They move me not: I keep my trustful tryst:
My rock is changeless, and my rock is Christ.

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