Classic Poem

Joy to thy bosom, thou child of the ocean,
Bright is the beacon which gleams o'er the wave,
He who has stilled the wild billow's commotion,
Hasteth to seek thee—and seeketh to save.

Moved by a sympathy glowing and tender,
Children of Jesus would raise thee from woe,
All the kind offices friendship can render,
Hearts of compassion would gladly bestow.

Thine it shall be in a haven to linger,
Where the blest temple invites thee to come,
Where the robed Priest, with his sky-pointing finger,
Bids thee press on to thy blood-purchased home.

Blending thy voice with the jubilant anthem,
Bowing thy knee when confessions arise,
Wilt thou not fit thee to join with the ransomed;
In the blest chorus which floats through the skies?

Thus shalt thou vanquish the lures of Abaddon,
Strong in the faith of the “Mighty to Save,”
Hopes of salvation thy spirit will gladden,
When the stern tempest around thee shall rave.

Joy to thy bosom—thou child of the billow,
For bright is the beacon which gleams o'er the wave,
Though rough be thy lot, and hard be thy pillow,
Yet Jesus shall seek thee, and seek thee to save.