Classic Poem

A MARINER sailed on a perilous sea,
And though frail was his bark, a brave spirit had he:
Hope beckoned him onward, Faith strengthened his soul,
And Love gave him impulse to steer for the goal,—
That glorious land, o'er the main far away,
Whose skies have the lustre of loveliest day,
Whose flowers have the breath of unfailing perfume,
Whose fields wear the hues of perpetual bloom.

He had trust in his Anchor, should wild waves assail,
And rouse into rage at the scourge of the gale;
He had trust in his Compass, which pointed afar
To the orb of one bright and particular star;
He had trust in his Glass, which was searching and clear,
And warned him when outward obstruction was near;
He had trust in his Chart, for no error was there,
And its truthfulness kept him from doubt and despair.

Yet strife was around him, and danger, and dark,
And wild waters battered the ribs of his bark,
And treacherous currents oft turned him aside,
And mists gathered thick o'er the face of the tide,
And icebergs encumbered the breast of the sea,
And winds howled about him in boisterous glee;
But, oh! there were moments of sunshine and calm,
When the billows were bright, and the breezes were balm.
His food was unfailing from day unto day,
A provision that suffered nor scant nor decay,
A manna to satisfy, strengthen, sustain,
And give him new courage to battle with pain;
His drink from an ever-free fountain o'erflowed,
And great were the comfort and joy it bestowed,
A heart-helping, soul-cheering chalice of wine,
Replenished alway from a vintage divine.

Still, still he sped on towards the land that he sought,
Recruited in vigour, exalted in thought;
But many and sad were the things that he saw,
While he yearned with compassion, and trembled with awe
Other barks foundered round him, all filled with despair,
Though he helped when he could, both with effort and prayer;
And the few God permitted His servant to save,
Smoothed the mariner's path o'er the turbulent wave.

Still, still he sped onward, but nearer the goal,
For he felt a new effluence touching his soul;
And hills swathed in purple arose on his sight,
And lands that lay lovely in soft golden light,
And glory and quiet reigned over the seas,
And perfume and music came rich on the breeze;
And Christian, the mariner, knew he was blest,
For he entered the haven of heavenly rest.