the storm.
63
And far, and near, on many a strand,
Mothers, and wives, and daughters stand
Watching for boats that will never land
Husband, father, or son.
Till, chilled by the wind and flying foam,
Heart-sick and weary, they turn again home
Where the children are crying for "Dadda to come"—
God help each one!
Mothers, and wives, and daughters stand
Watching for boats that will never land
Husband, father, or son.
Till, chilled by the wind and flying foam,
Heart-sick and weary, they turn again home
Where the children are crying for "Dadda to come"—
God help each one!
desolate heart! where'er you be,
Mourning your loved, on land or sea,
I reach out loving hands to thee
With feeling true.
Gauge, by this human heart of mine,
That feels so deep for woes of thine,
How the Great Heart of Love Divine
Must feel for you.
······
Hushed are the voices of the blast,
The force of the hurricane is past—
But floating wreckage and broken mast
Speak silently
Of desolate homes this Christmastide,
Of battles fought on the raging tide,
Ere the brave souls pass'd to the "other side,"
Where there is "no more sea."
Mourning your loved, on land or sea,
I reach out loving hands to thee
With feeling true.
Gauge, by this human heart of mine,
That feels so deep for woes of thine,
How the Great Heart of Love Divine
Must feel for you.
······
Hushed are the voices of the blast,
The force of the hurricane is past—
But floating wreckage and broken mast
Speak silently
Of desolate homes this Christmastide,
Of battles fought on the raging tide,
Ere the brave souls pass'd to the "other side,"
Where there is "no more sea."
