Still as the Sea serene and deep,
When all the winds are laid,
The City sleeps — so still, its sleep
Maketh the soul afraid.

Over the living waters, see!
The Seraphs shining go, —
The Moon is gliding hushfully
Through stars like flakes of snow.

In pearl-white silver here and there
The fallen moon-rays stream:
Hark! a dull stir is in the air,
Like the stir of one in dream.

Through all the thrilling waters creep
Deep throbs of strange unrest,
Like washings of the windless Deep
When it is peacefullest.

A little while — God's breath will go,
And hush the flood no more;
The dawn will break — the wind will blow,
The Ocean rise and roar.

Each day with sounds of strife and death
The waters rise and call;
Each midnight, conquer'd by God's breath,
To this dead calm they fall.

Out of His heart the fountains flow,
The brook, the running river,
He marks them strangely come and go,
For ever and for ever.

Till darker, deeper, one by one,
After a weary quest,
They, from the light of moon and sun,
Flow back, into His breast.

Love, hold my hand! be of good cheer!
For His would be the cost,
If, out of all the waters here,
One little drop were lost .

Heaven's eyes above the waters dumb
Innumerably yearn;
Out of His heart each drop hath come,
And thither must return.