Oh, breaking thro' the mist of dreams That wreathe the distant bar,
The vessel comes with a strange Hght dress'd, And, tho' it sails from out the West, Upon its flag there ghstens A golden Eastern star !
For when the world is blackest. And man is blind with blood
And buried deep in his guilt and pride, This is the ship that takes the tide And sends its lamp of healing Across the soul's dark flood.
It comes once more as it oft has come,' With its faery wings outspread — Can ye not see them, eyes that grope, Nor read its name. The Unconquered Hope, Nor yet discern the halo Around its Figurehead ?
WTiat are the gifts the proud ship brings? Oh childish smiles and tears ;
Oh childish faith that breaks thro' all The sin that holds the world in thrall ! . . . A rift is in the darkness — A ship, a ship appears.
— Gilbert Thomas.
�� �
