Poems (Follen)/Musings on the Rocks at Nahant

by Eliza Lee Cabot Follen

MUSINGS ON THE ROCKS AT NAHANT.

What pleasing, solemn awe the soul subdues,
 When first upon the sounding shore,
Ocean's blue, trembling waves it views,
 And listens to their sullen roar;—

Or sees them 'mid the storm with strife sublime,
 Lashing the flinty, beetling rocks;
Whose iron scowl defies the power of time,
 And ocean's foaming fury mocks.

What fearful joy on jutting crag to stand,
 Till the inspired, expanding mind
Sees Him who holds the waters in his hand,
 And rides upon the winged wind.

And, O, with one we dearly love, how sweet,
 Silent to sit the livelong day,
And watch the billows breaking at our feet,
 And, breathless, feel the sprinkling spray!

How swiftly earth-born passions die away,
 While gazing on the boundless sea;
Forgetting life's poor, transient, fev'rish day,
 The thoughts are in eternity.

Louder and shriller now the sea-bird shrieks;
 The foam curls o'er the craggy steep:
Omnipotence is here; it moves, it speaks,
 And wakes the horrors of the deep.

Now, with the tossing wave my soul is tossed;
 Now, to the realms of peace it soars;
Now, in the wide immensity 'tis lost;
 Now, the Creator's power adores:—

Now, with the kindling eye of faith, I see
 Jesus, who came from heaven to save
Repentant man—with radiant majesty,
 Walking the rolling, restless wave.

Now, mid the storm, his heavenly voice speaks peace,
 Chides his disciples' weak alarm:
At his rebuke, the winds their roaring cease,
 And, straight, the obedient sea is calm.

And still his voice the Christian can sustain,
 Mid strife and peril, safe from harm;
For faith, erect, can walk life's tossing main,
 And love, 'mid storms command a calm.