THE BOY WITH THE FIVE LOAVES.

And prayer has might to spread and grow,
Thy childish darts, right-aimed on high
May catch Heaven's fire, and glow
Far on the eternal sky:

Even as he made that stripling's store
Type of the feast by him decreed,
When Angels might adore

And souls forever feed.

Lyra Innocentium.

107

Walking on the Sea.

But he saith unto them, "It is I; be not afraid.”—JOHN vi. 20.

WHEN the storm of the mountains on Galilee fell,
And lifted its waters on high;

And the faithless disciples were bound in the spell
Of mysterious alarm-their terrors to quell,
Jesus whispered, "Fear not, it is I."

The storm could not bury that word in the wave,
For 'twas taught through the tempest to fly;
It shall reach his disciples in every clime,

And his voice shall be near in each troublous time,
Saying, "Be not afraid, it is I.”

When the spirit is broken with sickness or sorrow,

And comfort is ready to die;

The darkness shall pass, and in gladness to-morrow, The wounded complete consolation shall borrow From his life-giving word, "It is I."