The Christ-awakening

MARIAN J. COBB

How sweet the story of that long ago,
When the disciples sailed at close of day,
And as the ship launched forth, the Master lay
Asleep upon a pillow, resting so.

But as he slept, the angry waves did break,
For o'er the sea a sudden wind-storm swept;
While the disciples rushed to where he slept,
Crying, "Awake, we perish! Master, wake!"

Then he arose; and with his "Peace, be still,"
Rebuked the winds, and bade them do no harm.
The tempest ceased; and lo, there was a calm;
The waters fell, obedient to his will.

Sometimes, the Christ-idea seems asleep
Within my fragile bark, the ship of life.
Ah, then it is that winds and storms are rife,
And angry waves engulf me, mountain deep.

But when at length, through faith and love and prayer,
The Christ awakens in my consciousness,—
The healing Christ, that wakens but to bless,—
The tempests cease; and lo, a calm is there.

To that sweet story of the long ago,
My thought again, and yet again, hath turned;
For in its deeper meaning I have learned
The sweetest lesson that the heart can know.

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