Page:Hymns for Childhood, 1834.pdf/26

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Go! ask him of the whirlpool's roar, Whose echoing thunder peals Loud, as if rushed along the shore An army's chariot wheels;

Of icebergs, floating o'er the main, Or fixed upon the coast, Like glittering citadel or fane, 'Mid the bright realms of frost;

Of coral rocks, from waves below In steep ascent that tower, And fraught with peril, daily grow, Formed by an insect's power;

Of sea-fires, which at dead of night Shine o'er the tides afar, And make the expanse of ocean bright, As heaven, with many a star.