There were seven Ushers, with nets in their
hands,
And they walked and talked by the seaside
sands;
Yet, sweet as the sweet dew-fall,
The words they spake, though they spake so
low,
Across the long dim centuries flow,
And we know them, one and all,—
Ay! we know and love them all.
The livelong night, till the moon went out
In the drowning waters, they beat about,—
Beat slow, through the fog, their way;
And the sails drooped down with wringing
wet,
And no man drew but an empty net;
And now 't was the break of the day,—
The great, glad break of the day.
"Cast in your net on the other side!"
('T was Jesus speaking across the tide!)
And they cast and were dragging hard;
But that disciple whom Jesus loved
Cried straightway out, for his heart was
moved;
" It is our risen Lord,—
Our Master, and our Lord!"
