"
As the poet George Herbert has beautifully said,
"Tempests are calm to Thee; they know Thy hand,
And hold it fast as children do their father's,
Which cry and follow, Thou hast made poor sand
Bound the proud sea, even when it swells and gathers."
I do not mean that the waves, as they rush like an invading army upon the
land, have no effect upon it. Look at the Map of England, and see how the
outline of the coast on the east and south has been jagged and broken. Or
go and see the Needles in the Isle of Wight, and you will learn how the
constant dash of the ocean can hollow out not only caves, but deep coves
and spreading bays, especially when the land against which it breaks is
made of chalk, or some of the softer rocks. Thus in the course of long
centuries, the seashore may rise or sink; peninsulas may become islands
by the narrow neck which united them to the mainland sinking into the
water--but whatever the land loses in one place, it gains in another, by
the quantity of sand and mud cast up by the waves. Many changes are caused
by the restless sea, but yet, even in its wildest moods, it owns the
curbing hand of its Maker; it may ebb and flow, but still keeps in its
appointed place.
This ebbing and flowing, which is caused by the coming in and going out
of the tides, was a great puzzle to me long ago. I used often to hear the
fishermen say at what hour it would be "full tide"; but I saw no mark which
could help them to fix the time, and wondered, when I found their words
came true, how they could know so surely.
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