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 The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed

The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled

To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head,

And think I had no master save his own.

You know the jutting cliff round which a track

Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow

To such another one, with scanty room

For two a-breast to pass? O'ertaken there

By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along,

And while gust followed gust more furiously,

As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink

And I have thought of other lands, whose storms

Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just

Have wished me there---the thought that mine was free

Has check'd that wish, and I have raised my head,

And cried in thraldom to that furious wind,

Blow on! This is the land of liberty!

 

marshall'd on the mighty plain,

The glittering host bestud the sky;

One star alone, of all the train,

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,

From every host, from every gem;

But one alone the Saviour speaks,

It is the star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud-the night was dark.

The ocean yawn'd---and rudely blow'd

The wind that toss'd my foundering bark.