December 10

WHEN on the mid sea of the night, I waken at Thy call, O Lord,

The first that troop my bark aboard

Are darksome imps that hate the light,

Whose tongues are arrows, eyes a blight—

Of wraths and cares a pirate horde—

Though on the mid sea of the night

It was Thy call that waked me, Lord.

Then I must to my arms and fight,

Catch up my shield and two-edged sword,

The words of Him who is Thy Word:

Nor cease till they are put to flight:—

Then in the mid sea of the night

I turn and listen for Thee, Lord.

There comes no voice from Thee, O Lord,

Across the mid sea of the night!

I lift my voice and cry with might:

If Thou keep silent, soon a horde

Of imps again will swarm aboard,

And I shall be in sorry plight

If no voice come from Thee, O Lord,

Across the mid sea of the night.

There comes no voice; I hear no word!

But in my soul dawns something bright:—

There is no sea, no foe to fight!

Thy heart and mine beat one accord:

I need no voice from Thee, O Lord,

Across the mid sea of the night.

GEORGE

MAC

DONALD

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