Ah, many-voiced and angry! how the waves <br />Beat turbulent with terrible uproar! <br />Is there no rest from tossing, - no repose? <br />Where shall we find a haven and a shore? <br /> <br />What is secure from the land-dashing wave? <br />There go our riches, and our hopes fly there; <br />There go the faces of our best beloved, <br />Whelmed in the vortex of its wild despair. <br /> <br />Whose son is safe? whose brother, and whose home? <br />The dashing spray beats out the household fire; <br />By blackened ashes weep our widowed souls <br />Over the embers of our lost desire. <br /> <br />By pauses, in the fitful moaning storm, <br />We hear triumphant notes of battle roll. <br />Too soon the triumph sinks in funeral wail; <br />The muffled drum, the death march, shakes the soul! <br /> <br />Rocks on all sides, and breakers! at the helm <br />Weak human hand and weary human eyes. <br />The shout and clamor of our dreary strife <br />Goes up conflicting to the angry skies. <br /> <br />But for all this, O timid hearts, be strong; <br />Be of good cheer, for, though the storm must be, <br />It hath its Master: from the depths shall rise <br />New heavens, new earth, where shall be no more sea. <br /> <br />No sea, no tossing, no unrestful storm! <br />Forever past the anguish and the strife; <br />The poor old weary earth shall bloom again, <br />With the bright foliage of that bitter life. <br /> <br />And war, and strife, and hatred, shall be past, <br />And misery be a forgotten dream. <br />The Shepherd God shall lead his peaceful fold <br />By the calm meadows and the quiet stream. <br /> <br />Be still, be still, and know that he is God; <br />Be calm, be trustful; work, and watch, and pray, <br />Till from the throes of this last anguish rise <br />The light and gladness of that better day.<br /><br />Harriet Beecher Stowe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/consolation-11/
