Each day the tide flows out and in,
Each day the gray ships leave,
Each night the mute-lipped stars appear,
Each night the waters grieve;
But from their distant harbor home
Toward which our hearts are yearning,
No more with laden ships of dreams
We see the years returning.
Each year that passed the silent bar
Went out beyond forever;
Tho on the heights we watch and wait,
The ships are sighted never;
But in our hearts old memories
Come to the heart’s discerning,
And comfort us if nevermore
We find the years returning. (Text.)
--ARTHUR W. PEACH, _The Sunday-school Times_.
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