Scripture Verse

Behold, I stand at the door and knock. Revelation 3:20


Mary B. Slade

Words: Ma­ry B. Slade, in The Blue Bird, ed­it­ed by George Root & Ben­ja­min R. Han­by (Chi­ca­go, Il­li­nois: Root & Ca­dy, 1867).

Music: George F. Root (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a bet­ter pho­to of Slade, would you ?

George F. Root


I wandered just at even,
Beside the sounding sea;
The whispering winds of Heaven
Their story told to me;
The east wind said, I’m hasting
From tropic Ganges’ wave;
Where children they were casting
Within a watery grave.


A soft wind whispered,
Who will send or go,
To teach the heathen
Jesus’ love to know?

The north wind told its story,
With one swift angry blast,
Of Indian offerings gory,
It saw, in rushing past;
Where far off northern nations
In forests dark and deep,
With fearful incantations
Their heathen vigils keep.


The south wind said, I’m telling
Of polar southern night;
When angry surges swelling,
The darkened souls afright;
I saw no offering burning;
No incense filled the air;
No souls to God were turning;
No gods they worship there!


The evening winds passed o’er me,
The angry northern blast,
Across the sea before me,
Went hasting, far and fast;
The zephyrs ceased their wailing,
And in my heart, I heard,
This promise, never failing,
The earth shall know the Lord!