OMINOUS are the times. They seem to be A restless ocean 'neath a sky of gloom On whose horizons bolts of thunder boom, Portending storm, — while pale humanity Is huddled in a ship which breasts the sea, Ploughing for some fair port where there is room For all to flee the dreaded cloud of doom Which marches on them now so fearfully. Yet this stout ship is manned by men of steel, And there are cool, courageous hearts aboard; What though the thunder break with mighty peal And livid lightning flash its trenchant sword! There shall be ballast still to right the keel, And pious lips to pray unto their Lord. |