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Soft winds and a moving tide
May bear you on, I pray,
With the love of God to guide
Through the year to your B. A.
On the shores of heavenly grace,
Or the crest of the ocean’s swell,
May the smile of the Father’s face
Be the sign that all is well.
In storms, whenever they rise,
Cling close to the pilot of prayer,
Keep faith under blackest of skies
That the love of God is there.
This poem is in the public domain.
Christ washed the feet of Judas!
The dark and evil passions of his soul,
His secret plot, and sordidness complete,
His hate, his purposing, Christ knew the whole.
And still in love he stooped and washed his feet.
The sun went down in beauty
Beyond the Mississippi side,
As I stood on the banks of the river
And watched its waters glide;
Its swelling currents resembling
The longing restless soul,
Surging, swelling, and pursuing
Its ever receding goal.
To dreamy languors and the violet mist
Of early Spring, the deep sequestered vale
Gives first her paling-blue Miamimist,
Where blithely pours the cuckoo’s annual tale
Of Summer promises and tender green,
Of a new life and beauty yet unseen.
The forest trees have yet a sighing mouth,