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The Lighthouse Lullabye Lay down your head and close your eyes and rest your weary soul, For the lighthouse shines through fog, and rain, and night as black as coal! Though winds are lashing and waves are crashing on coral reefs below, The beacons calls and beckons all with its majestic beam aglow. When stars are out and seas are calm and eventide draws nigh - The seafarer rocks in a cradle of waves to The Lighthouse Lullabye. A Watchman In the Night Where the night of sin lies darkly, And afar the sand'rers roam, I must keep the watch-fires burning That will guide the weary home; 'Tis my Lord who loves the sinsick That has made this duty mine; He has given to my keeping This fair gleam of light divine. I'm a watchman... in the night, I'm a keeper of a light, For the wanderer's returning I must keep the watchfire burning, I'm a watchman, I'm a watchman in the night. It is night upon the water Where life's billows toss and roar, I must keep my watchfires gleaming On the sands upon the shore; 'Tis for this that Christ my Savior Hath in love delivered me, That my light may help another Who is out upon the sea. Not my own, the word of warning Or the light of help and cheer, But to me has been entrusted Jesus' message, sweet and clear; I can call to those in darkness Or far out upon the foam; I can keep my own light burning That may guide the wand'rer home. - Julia H. Johnston - The Lighthouse by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow The rocky ledge runs far into the sea, and on its outer point, some miles away, the lighthouse lifts its massive masonry, A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day. Even at this distance I can see the tides, Upheaving, break unheard along its base, A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides in the white tip and tremor of the face. And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, through the deep purple of the twilight air, Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light, with strange, unearhly splendor in the glare! No one alone: from each projecting cape And perilous reef along the ocean's verge, Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape, Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. Like the great giant Christopher it stands Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, Wading far out among the rocks and sands, The night o'er taken mariner to save. And the great ships sail outward and return Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells, And ever joyful, as they see it burn They wave their silent welcome and farewells. They come forth from the darkness, and their sails Gleam for a moment only in the blaze, And eager faces, as the light unveils Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze. The mariner remembers when a child, on his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink And when returning from adventures wild, He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink. Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same, Year after year, through all the silent night Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame, Shines on that inextinguishable light! It sees the ocean to its bosum clasp The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace: It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp, And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece. The startled waves leap over it; the storm Smites it with all the scourges of the rain, And steadily against its solid form press the great shoulders of the hurricane. The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din of wings and winds and solitary cries, Blinded and maddened by the light within, Dashes himself against the glare, and dies. A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock, Still grasping in his hand the fire of love, it does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock, but hails the mariner with words of love. "Sail on!" it says: "sail on, ye stately ships! And with your floating bridge the ocean span; Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse. Be yours to bring man neared unto man. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Let The Lower Lights Be Burning Brightly beams our Father's mercy From His lighthouse evermore, But to us He gives the keeping Of the lights along the shore. Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Some poor fainting, struggling seaman You may rescue, you may save. Dark the night of sin has settled, Loud the angry billows roar; Eager eyes are watching, longing, For the lights along the shore. Trim your feeble lamp, my brother! Some poor sailor, tempest-tossed, Trying now to make the harbor, In the darkness may be lost. - P.P. Bliss -
