Classic Poem

Gaunt wreckers watch the wintry coast at night;
The tempest rages in the outward gloom;
Rough men are praying unto God to doom
A vessel struggling with the ocean's might.

Crowded and kneeling in supreme affright
Upon the fated ship, a floating tomb,
Vast, helpless throngs are seen when lightnings lume,
Beseeching God for salvatory light!

And He in highest Heaven doth hear these prayers
Offered by every soul with voice sincere,
Who for his sentence in distraction waits,
And He, environed by a million cares,
Looks on the scene of triumph and of fear,
Uplifts His judging hand, and—hesitates!