What shakes him ? not the storm abroad —
That moves in his calm soul no fears —
But, through its awful roar, he hears
The still small voice of God !
"Rise ! son of man, while yet 'tis night !" —
Such were the words the whisper spake —
"Rise straightway ! pen and parchment take,
And what I bid thee, write !"
Even through that saintly heart there sweeps
A questioning thought, "O how obey ?
Thick is the darkness, and the day
Far down the orient sleeps !"
"Rise ! and thy God shall give thee light !"
Again the voice commanding said ;
Abashed, he started from his bed,
And sought wherewith to write.