2 O where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And piercing words of liberty
The deaf ears open shake;

And mildest words arrest the haste
Of fever's daily fire,

And strong ones heal the weak who waste
Their life in sad desire?

3 0 where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And dark waves rolling heavily
A glassy smoothness take;

And lepers, whose own flesh has been
A solitary grave,

See with amaze that they are clean,
And cry, ""Tis He can save?"

4 0 where is He that trod the sea?
'Tis only He can save;

To thousands hungering wearily
A wondrous meal He gave;

Full soon, celestially fed,

Their rustic fare they take; 'Twas springtide when He blest the bread, And harvest when He brake.

5 0 where is He that trod the sea?
My soul, the Lord is here:
Let all thy fears be hushed in thee;
To leap, to look, to hear

Be thine: thy needs He'll satisfy.
Art thou diseased or dumb,
Or dost thou in thine hunger cry?
"I come," saith Christ, "I come."
Rev. Thomas T. Lynch, 1855.

Carl Philip Spitta, 1801-1859.

4

24

1.

guish, guish, J

Nicolaus Decius, 1526.

Our daily cross, whate'er it be,

And gladly for Thine own dear sake
In paths of pain to follow Thee.

3 As on our daily way we go,

Through light or shade, in calm or strife, O may we bear Thy marks below

In conquered sin and chastened life.

That holy memories of Thy cross
May sanctify each common task,
And turn to gain each earthly loss.

5 Grant us, dear Lord, our cross to bear
Till at Thy feet we lay it down,
Win through Thy blood our pardon there,
And through the cross attain the crown.
Bishop William W. How, 1871