The low, sweet voice of a summer's sea
Floats far along the pebbly strand; Whilst melodies, from greening grove,
Resound o'er all the pleasant land. The streamlet, freed from icy band,
Sings gaily on its seaward way; All nature, in responsive mood,
Doth chime in Springtide roundelay.

What notes discordant dare to mar
Those tender cadenzas of song? Can those shrill tones be tones of wrath
On softest zephyrs borne along? Yea! over Ocean's peaceful hum
A woman's wrathful voice soars high; And through the green-arched forest aisles
Rings out young childhood's plaintive cry.

Who cometh, arrayed in priestly guise,
Full-charged with embassy divine, Of noble mien, of princely port,
Of lofty brow and look benign? The mother stays the uplifted hand;—
The culprit turned, and quickly ran And refuge sought, and shelter found
Beneath cloak of the holy man.

Calm, clear and firm the warning fell
"Forgive! if thou wouldst be forgiven; Whose heart doth harbor angry thoughts
Can ne'er as penitent be shriven. Forgive thy son! this once forgive!
His surety I shall gladly be; Or, if justice claimeth punishment,
Then—visit his crimes on me."

---

The years rolled on; the priestly garb
Bedecks a princely prelate now; The saintly voice a blessing speaks
From underneath a mitred brow. In his rounds of zeal the Bishop seeks
Once more fair Lennox' sea-girt isle; When lo! from out the gathering shades,
The brilliant lights of welcome smile.

In centre of a glittering throng
The reverend Father stately stands; And, in the name of the Triune God,
He upraiseth his sacred hands. Whilst, leader in that vast array,
Whose torches brighten wave and shore, Is he whose faults were answered for;
The saved of many years before.

So we, in our rebel sin-nature,
Pine under the chastening rod; And fly with our burden of evil
From wrath of a just-dealing God, To hide in Christ's sheltering raiment
Of righteousness, inwove with peace; To find, in a sinless substitute,
The sin-fettered soul's release.