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.

 

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.

 

Let the lower lights be burning!

Send a gleam across the wave!

Some poor fainting, struggling seaman

You may rescue, you may save.

Phillip P. Bliss

 

See all the posts of Poetry