“The Tempest,” Ensign, October 2020
The angry noise, the howling wind,
The fearful, growing dissonance—
As thund’ring waves meet thund’ring sky,
A full-fledged storm is coming on.
Against the gale my pleas are lost …
Blown … scattered. Is there none to save?
No quieting? Thou carest not
If I fall prey to roiling wave?
But by the Father set apart,
My echoed cries He hears, He wakes;
And graciously with patience starts
To still the tempest in my heart.