The Storm
Adelaide Procter and Roland Rogers
This sweet piece of Victoriana was found in an ancient brown-bound anthology called Festival Music (1907). It hardly ever gets performed these days but I thought I'd let my "choir" give it a go (transposed to my range).
The tempest rages wild and high,
The waves lift up their voice and cry
Fierce answers to the angry sky, -
Miserere Domine.
Through the black night and driving rain,
A ship is struggling, all in vain
To live upon the stormy main; -
Miserere Domine.
The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
Vain is it now to strive or dare;
A cry goes up of great despair, -
Miserere Domine.
The stormy voices of the main,
The moaning wind, the pelting rain
Beat on the nursery window pane: -
Miserere Domine.
Warm curtained was the little bed,
Soft pillowed was the little head;
"The storm will wake the child," they said:
Miserere Domine.
Cowering among his pillows white
He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright,
"Father save those at sea to-night!"
Miserere Domine.
The morning shone all clear and gay,
On a ship at anchor in the bay,
And on a little child at play, -
Gloria tibi Domine!