“It is I; be not afraid” (Mark 6:47-51).
The night is dark; the winds are high;
Black rolling clouds obscure the sky;
Fierce bursts the storm that sweeps the sea
Of thy green shores, O Galilee:
In vain you boatmen ply the oar,
And toil to gain the wished-for shore.
Oh, never, since first seamen brave
Ventured to trust the treacherous wave,
Did bark so rich a freight contain,
Nor e’er shall hold so rich again
As that now tossing on the sea,
Of thy green shores, O Galilee.
No silk, or pearls, or dust of gold,
That little storm-tossed skiff may hold;
No men of wealth, or power, or birth,
The wise and mighty of the earth:
Man’s eye therein no more could see
Than fishermen of Galilee.
Foul is the wind, the waves run high,
Their wearied oars in vain they ply,
When lo! a wondrous form of light
Bursts on the darkness of the night,
And walks upon the depths profound,
As if the sea were solid ground.
With throbbing hearts, in wild amaze,
The startled boatmen trembling gaze:
“It is a spirit,” lo! they cry,
As to their bark its steps draw nigh;
Such visions of the night, more drear
To mortal hearts, than sword or spear.
“Fear not: ’tis I; be not afraid,”
With well-known voice, their Master said;
“Fear not: ’tis I; be of good cheer,
Nor let your hearts give way to fear;
I walk upon the liquid wave,
Jesus, Emmanuel, strong to save.”
“It is the Lord!” they gladly cry—
What joy succeeds their agony!
“It is the Lord! Our Savior near,
What room is there for care or fear?
All earth and hell we can defy
If we but know our Lord is nigh.”
J. G. Deck