p. 7 | Stilling the Tempest by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Jul 24, 1907

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 33, No. 30.

Stilling the Tempest.

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Judea's sun was sinking down Behind Mount Tabor's hoary crown, The while, athwart the glimmering west The sunset shook her flaming crest, And hill and dale and wood and lake A magic beauty seemed to take.

And now far o'er the purple sea Of changeful, restless Galilee, I see afar a white-winged boat Upon the billowy tide afloat, And sleeping on a pillow there I see a Form divinely fair.

Thus, peacefully the moments fly, When, sudden, o'er the purple sky, Dark clouds came up, and tongues of flame From out the gathering darkness came,— And leaped and blazed and gleamed and flashed, The while the billows madly dashed, And rolling thunder boomed and crashed.

From cloud-girt Hermon's snowy height The storm came down in sudden might; And fiercer still the wild winds blew, And black as night the storm-cloud grew, And louder still and still more loud The thunder pealed from cloud to cloud.

And still, 'mid tempest-riven sky, That white-winged vessel rideth high. I see her struggling with the storm When lightning's flash reveals her form. Hark! hear that cry above the roar Of howling wind and beating wave, A hoarse voice calling o'er and o'er, "Master, we perish! wake and save!"

"What! hear'st Thou not the tempest's rage? How can'st Thou calmly lie asleep When mighty waves like mountains rise To whelm us 'neath the surging deep?" O Peter, Peter, knowest thou not 'Tis He who formed the mighty sea, Who holds the waters in His hand, That sleepest now on Galilee?

The Sleeper wakes; He calmly speaks; The wind and waves His words fulfil: "Ye raging billows, cease your strife, O howling tempest,—peace,—be still."

'Tis done; the raging, wild winds ceased, And evening breathed her breath of balm; The rolling thunder died away, And peace returned,—there was a calm; And quiet nature sank to rest Like birdling in her leafy nest, Or child upon its mother's breast.

O restless heart whose hope seems dead, When shadows rest o'er vale and hill, When lightnings flash above thy head, List, while He whispers, "Peace, be still!" MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE.