GRAINS OF GOLD

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 40, 21 October 1925, Page 3

GRAINS OF GOLD

THE ONE TRUE BARQUE. The night is dark and the winds are high, On the face of the angry deep, And clouds look wild in the stormy sky, As tossing in mist they sweep. We’re riding down through this fearful sea, In our voyage of life and death; We’re riding down to eternity, Over breakers that roar beneath. Strange shadows of rocks before us rise. Through treacherous wave and squall: And ever anon as the lightning flies. We hear strange voices call. To leeward far, where the billows dash And the sea in surges swells, We see dim, shadowy vessels crash. And we hear the sound of bells. No barque can live in this awful sea, Nor ever to port be moored, Unless it floats from its pennons free The banner of Christ, Our Lord. Sis Vessel alone, the one true Barque, % twice a thousand years, Has weathered with case these wreck-strewn seas, And glorious still appears. Thomas Walsh.