In what a forge and what a heat were shaped the anchors of thy hope! Fear not each sudden sound and shock; 'Tis of the wave and not the rock.

My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.

My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea

It is a beautiful trait in the lover's character, that they think no evil of the object loved.

A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.

So disasters come not singly; But as if they watched and waited, Scanning one another's motions, When the first descends, the others Follow, follow, gathering flock-wiseRound their victim, sick and wounded, First a shadow, then a sorrow, Till the air is dark with anguish.