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prescience.
We were not wrong, my heart and I,
For mournful is the story told,
Of widows' wail, and orphans' cry,
And brave men lying still and cold
Beneath the sea, whose wild waves toss
The floating wreckage on the shore.
Sure evidence of their sad loss,
Whose earthly voyages are o'er.
For mournful is the story told,
Of widows' wail, and orphans' cry,
And brave men lying still and cold
Beneath the sea, whose wild waves toss
The floating wreckage on the shore.
Sure evidence of their sad loss,
Whose earthly voyages are o'er.
O, Pilot! of the Silent Sea,
We dare to hope, my heart and I,
That, in their last extremity,
They heard and saw Thee standing by;
Saw, too, the Harbour lights afar,
And trusting all to Thy command,
Crossed safely o'er the Harbour bar,
And anchored in the Better Land.
We dare to hope, my heart and I,
That, in their last extremity,
They heard and saw Thee standing by;
Saw, too, the Harbour lights afar,
And trusting all to Thy command,
Crossed safely o'er the Harbour bar,
And anchored in the Better Land.
