'Twas Sabbath eve; the hour of prayer was nigh, When lo! from out the dark and sullen sky Forked lightings sudden flashed, The thunder rolled and crashed; Then came the dreaded squall, And rain began to fall. Shivering, I closed the door—Ugh! how the rain did pour—And sought the fire's warm glow. How wild without! "Why go?"Said self, "The preacher will not come." But I heard a small voice say, "Why should you stay away? Though the servant may not appear, Will not the Master be there?"
I went; and even as I thought, The hour of prayer no preacher brought; But, from the band of fishermen, One rose, who with a reverent mien—Betraying no self-consciousness—Told the story of the Cross. His story told: another took his place, Another with an earnest sun-bronzed face, And he, in turn, in simple language strove To tell the story of Redeeming Love.Fearless he stood, this toiler of the deep, And I, I felt a strange desire to weep; For, as I sat and listened unto him, Feeling a sense of awe, my sight grew dim; A mist or something rose before mine eyes, Then backward rolled the centuries. And I, or so it seemed to me, Stood on the shore of Galilee Watching the Christ. I saw His hand Raised in a gesture of command. Following His gaze, I turned, and then Beheld two brethren—fishermen, Humble fishermen—but He Said, "Leave your nets, and follow Me."And they left all and followed on, Disciples of God's Holy One. ·····The vision passed: my sight grew clear, But still that voice Divine I hear—The voice that near Lake Galilee Said to the fishers, "Follow Me"; 'Tis saying, "Even now, as then, Are my disciples fishermen."
