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BURIED AT SEA.
But now it is nineteen hundred years Almost, since the world was toldThat God's own Son came down to teach Of love far better than gold:A beautiful story of hope and faith, Of triumph beyond the tomb;Where charity's pure and spotless flower Is kept in immortal bloom.
How Christians stand in the ranks of death, With never a doubt nor fear;Doing the work of the God they serve, Knowing His arm is near;Tenderly watching the fevered pulse, Now bathing the burning head;Flinging the golden calf away, And working for God instead.
*****
Only a storm-tost ship at sea, And the wild wave's hungry roar,The red-hot touch of a fevered gale In sight of a Christian shore.Weak women and children lying there Bowed down by its burning breath,
