The Wind Unbound. Poem by Samuel Bamford

God doth unbind the enchained wind;
He bids him go, and he straightway goeth!
The mighty one from the Lord is gone—
O'er ocean wide and land he bloweth.

From mountain peak doth he terror shake,
'Mid cavern'd echoes he wildly crieth;
His wings descend where the pine woods bend—
O'er desert plain in thick cloud he flieth.

On moonless night doth he take his flight!
Star-spangled regions he then exploreth;
Flings wide his pinions in heaven's dominions,
And towards God's own palace gate he soareth.

Then back he bends, and to earth descends—
Cloud-rending stormer, the world he shaketh!
Pale Fear lies wailing, the brave are quailing
The proud he humbles, the strong he breaketh.

On shoreless main, when his path is ta'en,
Howling he calls on that whelming ocean;
The deep sea cleaveth, the billow heaveth,
And wind and flood meet in dire commotion;

No ship may ride through that dreadful tide—
Stark hollow yells, every hope denying:
The fierce wind breaketh, the wave down taketh—
Oh, God! have mercy upon the dying.