IX.

I saw, in visions of the night, Creation like a sea outspread, With surf of stars and storm of light And movements manifold and dread.

Then lo, within a Human Hand A Sceptre moved that storm above: Thereon, as on the golden wand Of kings new-crowned, there sat a Dove.

Beneath her gracious weight inclined That Sceptre drooped. The waves had rest And Sceptre, Hand, and Dove were shrined Within a glassy ocean's breast.

His Will it was that placed her there! He at whose word the tempests cease Upon that Sceptre planted fair That peace-bestowing type of Peace!