A little, lonely boat,
On the wild waves afloat;
Never a sail in sight,
Day darkling into night --
Stormy and stern,
So tossed my soul adrift,
High on doubt's waves uplift;
Vainly I sought for aid,
Boundless the billows played
Round me, in anger!
Hoarsely the deep seas moaned,
Roughly the wild winds groaned;
Cold cloyed the sailor's haart, --
Oh, God, from earth to part,
And from the loving!
So saw I horrors round,
So heard I terrors sound;
Helpless, I lay and wept,
Dreaming all succour slept,
Wide waked destruction.
Lo! on the orient verge
Is it the breakers' surge?
No, but a coming sail --
God, shall their senses fail,
Maddened by hope!
So, through my dark despair,
What struggling light is there?
Dimly my cross uprears
Him that will ease all fears,
The Dying, the Deathless!
Hark to the thankful cry!
Mark you the upturned eye!
Snatched from an ocean grave,
Look how great tear-drops lave
The sailors' smilings.
Lo, I, with trust on high,
Cling to that Cross for aye,
So doth my worship burst
Out into song at first,
Deep'ning to weeping.
First published in The Sydney Mail, 11 May 1861
Author reference site: Austlit
See also.
On the wild waves afloat;
Never a sail in sight,
Day darkling into night --
Stormy and stern,
So tossed my soul adrift,
High on doubt's waves uplift;
Vainly I sought for aid,
Boundless the billows played
Round me, in anger!
Hoarsely the deep seas moaned,
Roughly the wild winds groaned;
Cold cloyed the sailor's haart, --
Oh, God, from earth to part,
And from the loving!
So saw I horrors round,
So heard I terrors sound;
Helpless, I lay and wept,
Dreaming all succour slept,
Wide waked destruction.
Lo! on the orient verge
Is it the breakers' surge?
No, but a coming sail --
God, shall their senses fail,
Maddened by hope!
So, through my dark despair,
What struggling light is there?
Dimly my cross uprears
Him that will ease all fears,
The Dying, the Deathless!
Hark to the thankful cry!
Mark you the upturned eye!
Snatched from an ocean grave,
Look how great tear-drops lave
The sailors' smilings.
Lo, I, with trust on high,
Cling to that Cross for aye,
So doth my worship burst
Out into song at first,
Deep'ning to weeping.
First published in The Sydney Mail, 11 May 1861
Author reference site: Austlit
See also.