our pilots.
67
Our Pilots.
Poets of every age have sung the deeds of soldiers brave,
And told in glowing terms the acts of sailors on the wave,
But few have thought to sing the praise of this devoted band,
Who oft their hazardous calling ply, verily life in hand.
And told in glowing terms the acts of sailors on the wave,
But few have thought to sing the praise of this devoted band,
Who oft their hazardous calling ply, verily life in hand.
Tides ebb and flow, ships come and go,
And the pilot must be at his post,
Lest haply some vessel near, finding no pilot, should steer
On to the dangerous coast.
And the pilot must be at his post,
Lest haply some vessel near, finding no pilot, should steer
On to the dangerous coast.
When tempests wild are raging, and seas run mountains high,
When other craft are hastening home, or to refuge nigh,
For him there's no returning when duty bids him stay,
E'en though the angry waters may claim him as their prey.
When other craft are hastening home, or to refuge nigh,
For him there's no returning when duty bids him stay,
E'en though the angry waters may claim him as their prey.
Tides ebb and flow, ships come and go,
And the pilot must be at his post,
For when stormy winds roar, good ships drive ashore,
And without him some would be lost.
And the pilot must be at his post,
For when stormy winds roar, good ships drive ashore,
And without him some would be lost.
