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MY FIRST SABBATH AT SEA.
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Filled with the scene sublime,
The priestly heart grew bold,
To speak with eloquence of Him,
Who the great deep controlled;
And loftier was his youthful brow,
And deep his tuneful voice,
That warned the sinner to repent,
And bade the saint rejoice.
A spell was on the heart,
That bowed the proudest head,
Above us the eternal skies,
Beneath our feet the dead;
The dead who knew no burial rite,
Save storm, or battle cry,
Whose tombs are where the coral grows,
And the sea-monsters lie.
It is a blessed thing
In God's own courts to stand,
And hear the pealing organ swell,
And join the prayerful band;
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