Poems (Emma M. Ballard Bell)/The Ocean Burial
THE OCEAN BURIAL.
It was midnight on the sea, And a tempest raged around,While the billows wild and free, With a rushing, roaring sound,Dashed against a noble bark, As it plowed its way alongThrough the treach'rous waves so dark, In their midnight drap'ry hung.
Yes, 'twas midnight on the main, Midnight solemn, dark, and drear;By the lonely couch of pain Sat a mother, pale with fear.But the storm she heeded not That without was raging wild;All its terrors were forgot While she watched her dying child.
"Mother," said the dying one, In sweet accents low but clear,"Tell me, is my life's work done? Tell me, for I do not fear."Then the mother gently bent O'er the couch with tearful eye; And the maiden seemed content When she told her she must die.
"Mother, I had thought my tomb Near our own loved home should be;Where the violets would bloom In their beauty over me.Now I hear my Father call From his mansions in the sky,And I care not what befall,— Care not though I here must die.
"So when my cold form they lay 'Neath the ocean wave to rest,Let not one regret, I pray, Find a place within thy breast.Angel eyes are watching me, Angel music greets my earJesus, He will comfort thee; Death's dark vale I do not fear.
"No, oh, no! e'en though the sea O'er this cold, frail form may foam,From all care and sorrow free, I shall rest secure at home."While the mother watched her child, Came the messenger of Death;Closed the maiden's blue eye mild, Breathed on her his icy breath.
Morning dawned, and all was still; For the storm had died away,Subject to His all-wise will, Whom the winds and sea obey.For the mother's heart-felt grief, Yielding almost to despair,Earth afforded no relief; This she found at last in prayer.
Ere another night had fled Slept the maiden in her grave,—Slept with the unnumbered dead, 'Neath the ocean's briny wave.
Oh! thou great and mighty deep, Holding in thy caverns strongLoved ones, for whom many weep, And have wept for, oh! so long;There shall come a time when thou In thy majesty sublime,Though reluctantly, shalt bow To the stern decree of time.
Then, when from Jehovah's eye Guilty hearts would fain have fled,Thou shalt hear the angel's cry,— "Let the sea give up its dead."