Religion
Swollen as the troubled sea
From Parish Musings (1863)
Swollen as the troubled sea
Lord I feel this heart to be;
Restless on account of sin,
Lord there is no peace within.
'Till Thou bid its passions cease
Lord it never can have peace;
Cannot change its wicked will,
'Till Thou whisper, " Peace, be still!"
Every idle hope begone,
Speaking peace when there is none;
None but Jesus, none but He
Peace can ever speak to me.
'Till I feel my sins removed,
And, — assured that I am loved, —
Lean upon my Saviour's breast,
I can never think of rest.
Codex Note
Text: But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked. — Isa. lvii. 20, 21.
Cite this poem
MLA
Monsell, John S. B. “Swollen as the troubled sea.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/monsell/208/.
Chicago
Monsell, John S. B. “Swollen as the troubled sea.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/monsell/208/.
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