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...TO JOHN DONNE (2) by BEN JONSON TO THE NIGHTINGALE by PHILIP AYRES SAY NO MORE OF ME by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD THE SEA GULL by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD ON THE PRAYSE OF POETRY by ABRAHAM COWLEY |