I SOMETIMES like, when all my way seems barred, To mind me of the story told of one, Whose faith the dawn of Britain's freedom starred Ere yet had beamed the rising of the sun. Brave Cuthbert who, from tending of the sheep On wind-swept hillsides bleak, near Lammermoor, Went forth the Master's scattered flock to keep, And preach his love who says, "I am the Door." Once, tossed upon an angry boiling sea, His boat was dashed upon a dreary shore. Heart-sick, and like to die, his comrades three Cried:" Cuthbert, let us perish—hope is o'er, "The furious tempest shuts the water-path; The snow-storm blinds us on the bitter land." "Now wherefore, friends, have ye so little faith?" God's servant said; and, stretching forth his hand, He lifted up his reverent eyes, and spake: "I thank thee, Lord, the way is open there! No storm above our heads in wrath shall break, And shut the heavenward path of love and prayer." Sweet to me comes old Cuthbert's word to-day; Sweet is the thought that Christ is always near; I seek him by the ever-open way, Nor yield my courage to a shuddering fear. The storm may darken over land and sea, But step by step with Christ I walk along; Dear Christ, the storm and sun are both of thee, And thou thyself art still my strength and song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COMING OF WISDOM WITH TIME by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS HOMAGE TO THE BRITISH MUSEUM by WILLIAM EMPSON MORITURI SALUTAMUS [WE WHO ARE TO DIE SALUTE YOU] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BLACK AND BLUE EYES by THOMAS MOORE UNDERWOODS: BOOK 2: 16. THE DEAREST FRIENDS ARE THE AULDEST FRIENDS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |