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Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1655/Jubilate

For works with similar titles, see Jubilate.


Gray distance hid each shining sail
By ruthless breezes borne from me;
And lessening, fading, faint and pale,
My ships went forth to sea.

Where misty breakers rose and fell
I stood and cowered hopelessly;
For every wave had tales to tell
Of wrecks far out at sea.

To-day a song is on my lips;
Earth seems a paradise to me;
For God is good, and lo! my ships
Are coming home from sea.