STORM.

I looked into the night and saw

GOD writing with tumultuous flame

Upon the thunder's front of awe,—

As on sonorous brass,— the Law,

Terrific, of HIS judgement name.

Weary of all life's best and worst,

With hands of hate, I — who had pled,

I, who had prayed for death at first

And had not died — now stood and cursed

GOD, yet he would not strike me dead.