POETRY.

CHRIST IN THE TEMPEsT.
BY JS c. WHITTIER. Storm on the midnight waiers!-Tho vast sky

 Is stOOping with its thunder. Cloud on cloud

 Reels heavily in the darkness, like sbrOud Shook by some warning spirit from the high And terrible wall of Heaven. The mighty wave

 Tosses beneath its shadow like the bold Upheavings of giant from the grave,

 Which bound him prematurely to its cold And desolate bosom. Lo they miDgIe now- Tempest and heaving wave-aIong whose brow

 Trembles the lightning from its thick cloud-fold! And it is very terrible 1.-The roar

 Ascendetb up to Heaven, and thunders back

 Like the response of demons from the black Rifts ofthe hanging tempest-yavning o'er The wild waves in their torment. Hark--the cry Of the strong man in peril piercing through The uproar Of the waters and the sky,

 Asthe rent bark one moment rides to view, On the tall pillows, with the thunder cloud Closing around, above her, like shroud! HE stood nn0n the raeling deok-his form

 Made visible by the lightning; and his brow, Uncovered to the visiting of the storm,

 Told of triumph man may never know Power underived and mighty-s PEACE, BE srlLLp The great waves heard him, and the storms loud tone Went murmuring into silence, at his will;

 And the thick clouds where yet the lightning slone And slept the latent thunder, rolled away, Uhtil no trace of tempest lurked behind, Changing upon the pinions of the wind To harmless wanderers beautiful and gay. Dread Ruler of the Tempest! Thou before

 Whose presence boweth the uprisen s;ssm- To whom the waves do homage, round the shore

 Of many an island empire! if the form Of the frai dust beneath thine eye may claim

 Thy infinite regard-oh! breathe upon The storm and darkness of mans soul the same Quiet and peace and humbeness, which came

 Der the reused waters, where thy voice had gone