Volume 9 — Mark IV.
Reading edition
"Why are ye afraid, O ye of little faith?"
As if the storm meant Him; Or'cause Heaven's face is dim, His needs a cloud. Was ever froward wind That could be so unkind, Or wave so proud? The wind had need be angry, and the water black, That to the mighty Neptune's self dare threaten wrack. There is no storm but this Of your own cowardice That braves you out: You are the storm that mocks Yourselves; you are the rocks Of your own doubt. Besides this fear of danger there's no danger here, And he that here fears danger does deserve his fear.
Crashaw.