ON A GALE AT SEA.
LOUD howls the gale, and the heavens are dark,
But swift o'er the waves scuds our fast-sailing bark:
Her path through the billows is circled with foam,
But the harder it blows, she the fleeter flies home.
'T is thus with the Christian: afflictions may cloud,
And darken life's sunshine with gloom like a shroud;
The waves of temptation around him may rise,
And storms of adversity blacken the skies;
But the gale drives him swifter o'er life's troubled sea,
To the haven of rest, where his heart longs to be;
And the waves, that around him so fearfully swell,
Bear him fast to the home which his soul loves so well.
His compass is faith, and his chart is the Word,
His pole-star the Cross of his now risen Lord;
His anchor is hope; his affections the sail,
That he spreads up aloft to the favoring gale.
And soon shall life's perilous voyage be run,
Its dangers be over, the harbor be won;
Where tempests assail not, where conflicts all cease,
And he'll anchor secure in the haven of Peace.