valley from the Great Sea, or on occasion springing with sudden pas- 
sion out of the Jordan Valley over the Nazareth cliffs toward the far 
and fair blue waters. Could Jesus forget them? On many a solemn 
night, alone but not lonely, he had sat with chin upon his hands and 
listened to his hill winds 
blow. The winds—and he 
made them! Think of that, 
my heart. His winds—now 
thine. And when the sea 
was whipped with tempests 
by the lashings of the winds 
the wild and boisterous 
waves disturbed him not 
only in dreams, he thought 
he heard the heavenly bu- 
gles blow, and wakened 
from his happy sleep when 
the scared disciples wailed 
above the wind’s wild 
“goings,’’ ‘‘Carest thou not 
if we perish?’’ Then he 
awoke and spake lovingly 
to the winds (no harshness 
in his voice nor threat upon 
his face) saying only,‘‘Keep 
still for a little while, your 
fury frightens them, keep 
still. Peace, be still,’ and 
the winds threw their brazen 
trumpets in the sea and 
were still. He loved the 
winds; and all their sobbing 
lutes and viols and ’cellos THUNDERHEAD 
were dear to him. 
How | have rejoiced in God's winds! Under Niagara, when the 
winds have blown fury blasts, and on the mountains, when the snows 
had loosened their garments at the throat for freer wrestling and where 
down some long cafion winds swept like vernal freshets, and up among 
melancholy pines, where every pine was as a chief musician, like Asaph 
99 
