Until she lies a helpless wreck at last,
Her plans all thwarted, and her hopes all crossed,
Her guiding star obscured, and her direction lost.

'Tis thus with life; at times deemed most secure,
When all seems calm, and beautiful, and fair,
Dark rocks concealed, the easier to allure,
The fragile bark in youth's bright morn ensnare;
And storms arise, and fierce the lightnings glare,
And wild and high the raging billows roll,
While sinks the heart a wreck in deep despair,
Till, brightly o'er the dark and dreary pole,
The Morning Star appears to the benighted soul!

It guides the bark across life's troubled sea,--
It points the way unto the destined shore,
Till, anchored in a blest eternity,
It buffets with the howling storm no more.
Be ours that star to guide us safely o'er!
To us, oh, may its precious light be given!
And though the tempests beat and billows roar,
And though we now by adverse winds are driven,
We'll safely anchor soon in the blest port of Heaven!




THE SILENT ARMY.