Full many a dreary anxious hour
   We watch our nets alone
In drenching spray, and driving shower,
   And hear the night-bird’s moan: 

At morn we look, and nought is there;
   Sad dawn of cheerless day! 
Who then from pining and despair
   The sickening heart can stay?

There is a stay—­and we are strong;
   Our Master is at hand,
To cheer our solitary song,
   And guide us to the strand.

In His own time; but yet a while
   Our bark at sea must ride;
Cast after cast, by force or guile
   All waters must be tried: 

By blameless guile or gentle force,
   As when He deigned to teach
(The lode-star of our Christian course)
   Upon this sacred beach.

Should e’er thy wonder-working grace
   Triumph by our weak arm,
Let not our sinful fancy trace
   Aught human in the charm: 

To our own nets ne’er bow we down,
   Lest on the eternal shore
The angels, while oar draught they own,
   Reject us evermore: 

Or, if for our unworthiness
   Toil, prayer, and watching fail,
In disappointment Thou canst bless,
   So love at heart prevail.

SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord.  And Nathan said unto David, The Lord also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die. 2 Samuel xii. 13.

   When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
      With sinners wake at morn,
   When from our restless couch we start,
   With fevered lips and withered heart,
Where is the spell to charm those mists away,
And make new morning in that darksome day? 
   One draught of spring’s delicious air,
   One steadfast thought, that god is there.

   These are Thy wonders, hourly wrought,
      Thou Lord of time and thought,
   Lifting and lowering souls at will,
   Crowding a world of good or ill
Into a moment’s vision; e’en as light
Mounts o’er a cloudy ridge, and all is bright,
   From west to east one thrilling ray
   Turning a wintry world to May.

   Would’st thou the pangs of guilt assuage? 
      Lo! here an open page,
   Where heavenly mercy shines as free
   Written in balm, sad heart, for thee. 
Never so fast, in silent April shower,
Flushed into green the dry and leafless bower,
   As Israel’s crowned mourner felt
   The dull hard stone within him melt.

   The absolver saw the mighty grief,
      And hastened with relief; —
   “The Lord forgives; thou shalt not die:” 
   ’Twas gently spoke, yet heard on high,
And all the band of angels, used to sing
In heaven, accordant to his raptured string,
   Who many a month had turned away
   With veiled eyes, nor owned his lay,

   Now spread their wings, and throng around
      To the glad mournful sound,
   And welcome, with bright open face,
   The broken heart to love’s embrace. 
The rock is smitten, and to future years
Springs ever fresh the tide of holy tears
   And holy music, whispering peace
   Till time and sin together cease.