WHEN through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming. When o'er the dark wave the red lightning is gleaming, Nor hope lends a ray the poor seamen to cherish, We fly to our Maker -- "Help, Lord! or we perish!" Oh Jesus! once toss'd on the breast of the billow, Aroused by the shriek of despair from Thy pillow, Now, seated in glory, the mariner cherish, Who cries in his danger -- "Help, Lord! or we perish!" And oh, when the whirlwind of passion is raging, When hell in our heart his wild warfare is waging, Arise in Thy strength Thy redeemed to cherish, Rebuke the destroyer -- "Help, Lord! or we perish!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 21 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE WAY TO ARCADY by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER LINCOLN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY A RECEIPT FOR WRITING A NOVEL by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK TWELVE SONNETS: 3. THE VALLEY ROSES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE LITTLE ONES GREATNESS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT AT FAREWELL by GEORGE W. BERGQUIST |