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THE WRECK.
No dank hair entangled with sea-weed, as ye picture the parted now.
But smiles light their calm, sweet faces; love beams from each tender eye;
And fair, as it twined round your fingers, the bright golden tresses float by.
Hush! "Quell thou thy murmurs;" they whisper, "We sin not, we sorrow no more;
We would soothe you, beloved, could you listen, till earths passing anguish were o'er.
And fair, as it twined round your fingers, the bright golden tresses float by.
Hush! "Quell thou thy murmurs;" they whisper, "We sin not, we sorrow no more;
We would soothe you, beloved, could you listen, till earths passing anguish were o'er.
"Thy Saviour hath rest for the weary; He heedeth the soul's faintest prayer;
Ere the desolate utter, 'Lord, hear me!' the God of the mourner is there.
Oh watch! let your light, then, be burning! none know when His coming shall be;
In the kingdom of God in its glory—there—there shall be no more sea."
Ere the desolate utter, 'Lord, hear me!' the God of the mourner is there.
Oh watch! let your light, then, be burning! none know when His coming shall be;
In the kingdom of God in its glory—there—there shall be no more sea."
Then on with a noble courage, unfurrow the grief-knit brow;
Could ye see but the band of the blessed, rejoicing in freedom now,
Ye would join in the song of the Seraph, nor hopelessly weep by the wave,
But trustfully give back the treasures our God in His mercy once gave.
Could ye see but the band of the blessed, rejoicing in freedom now,
Ye would join in the song of the Seraph, nor hopelessly weep by the wave,
But trustfully give back the treasures our God in His mercy once gave.
