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| O, WHERE is He that trod the sea, | |
| O, where is He that spake,— | |
| And demons from their victims flee, | |
| The dead their slumbers break; | |
| The palsied rise in freedom strong, | 5 |
| The dumb men talk and sing, | |
| And from blind eyes, benighted long, | |
| Bright beams of morning spring. | |
| |
| O, where is He that trod the sea, | |
| O, where is He that spake,— | 10 |
| And piercing words of liberty | |
| The deaf ears open shake? | |
| And mildest words arrest the haste | |
| Of fever’s deadly fire, | |
| And strong ones heal the weak who waste | 15 |
| Their life in sad desire. | |
| |
| O, where is He that trod the sea, | |
| O, where is He that spake?— | |
| And dark waves rolling heavily | |
| A glassy smoothness take; | 20 |
| And lepers whose own flesh has been | |
| A solitary grave, | |
| See with amaze that they are clean, | |
| And cry, “’Tis He can save!” | |
| |
| O, where is He that trod the sea?— | 25 |
| ’Tis only He can save; | |
| To thousands hungering wearily | |
| A wondrous meal He gave: | |
| Full soon, celestially fed, | |
| Their rustic fare they take; | 30 |
| ’Twas springtide when He blest the bread, | |
| And harvest when He brake. | |
| |
| O, where is He that trod the sea?— | |
| My soul! the Lord is here: | |
| Let all thy fears be hushed in thee, | 35 |
| To leap, to look, to hear, | |
| Be thine: thy needs He’ll satisfy: | |
| Art thou diseased or dumb? | |
| Or dost thou in thine hunger cry? | |
| “I come,” saith Christ; “I come.” | 40 |
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