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At High Tide

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Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Mar 23, 1915

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 42, No. 12.

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At High Tide

By Mary Alice Hare Loper

By Mary Alice Hare Loper
I sat me by the grand old ocean’s side, And heard the white-capped breakers crash and roar Where rose and fell the ever changing tide, Which bore the drifting sands from shore to shore.
The wave-swept harp of ocean strangely thrilled. Its chords of seaweed quivered to and fro. With strains majestic, grand, my soul was filled— The notes which for all ages come and go.
The restless pebbles lay upon the beach, As carelessly I gathered one by one. Thus far, no farther, could the wild waves reach, Which polished every wandering, sea-kissed stone.
The sun descending in the western sea, Left a bright path of burnished gold behind. ’Twas nature’s grand good night—such majesty Portrays the workings of the Master Mind.