The Breeze at Bethlehem

      I that have lashed the sea
And from the forest torn the rooted tree,
      Come now, my passion spent,
      A lowly penitent,
        Sweet Child, to Thee.

      Alike Thy sovereign will
The strong & weak, O slumbering Babe, fulfil.
      As I before Thee now
      Shall waves submissive bow,
        And storms be still.

John B. Tabb