Thou! glorious, pure, unwavering Light!
Let not our light be vain!
Grant us to see, through densest night,
Earth's direst problems plain!
A ship held fast on a treacherous reef
Lies quivering to and fro;
The wild winds mocking man's relief;
Upheaving ocean's flow.
Bright crimson floods the burnished west,
Red glows the village spire;
And the darkening speck, on seething crest,
Low sinks in molten fire.
Ah me! amid the tangled heap
Cast forth ere morning chime,
The veteran in his unrocked sleep;
Fair youth, and manhood's prime.
What treasure lieth, tightly bound
Within that sodden vest?
Which rude sea-wave hath not unwound
From off the quiet breast.
"Is't gold or pearls? grim sailor, speak!
What doth that case conceal?"
But the tear adown the bronzèd cheek
All silently doth steal.
They pass it round with reverend grace;--
Only a picture fair;
A woman's, and a baby's face,
And two damp locks of hair.
'Neath peaceful shades they calmly sleep
Who fought the angry wave;
Nor maid, nor mother e'er shall weep
Beside her sailor's grave.
For the golden locks will dull to dark,
The brown will turn to grey;
But the brave who sailed in that gallant bark
Have bade "Farewell" for aye.