p. 1 | The Tempest Stilled

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Jan 18, 1877

The Tempest Stilled.

The wild winds burst o'er Judah's hill, Far pealed the raging billow; The fires of heaven flashed wrathfully— As Jesus pressed his pillow.

The light, frail bark was rudely tossed From surge to dark surge leaping, The sails were torn and oars were lost, Yet Jesus still lay sleeping.

When o'er that bark the loud waves roar'd, And blasts went howling round her; Those Hebrews roused their slumbering Lord,— Lord save us or we founder!

He spoke, Ye troubled winds be still, The chafed wind sank reposing, As wild herds rest on Judah's hill, When calm day light is closing.

And turning to those startled men, Who watched the wave's subsiding; He spoke in mournful accents then, These words of righteous chiding.

O ye who thus fear wreck and death As if by heaven forsaken, How is it that ye have no faith? Or faith so quickly shaken?

And when those doubters saw with dread, The wondrous scene before them; Their limbs waxed faint, their courage fled, Strange awe came creeping o'er them.

This, this, they cried is Judah's Lord! And power divine arrays him! For lo, he doth but speak the word, And winds and waves obey him.