The Daily Herald

From the London Evangelical Magazine.

THE COMPASS.

The storm was loud-before the blast
Our gallant bark was driven;
Their foaming crests the billows reared,
And not one friendly star appeared,
Through all the vaults of heaven.

Yet dauntless still the steersman stood.
And gazed without a sigh
Where poised on needle bright and slim,
And lighted by a lanthorn dim,
The compass meets his eye.

Thence taught his darksome course to steer,
He breathed no wish for day;
But braved the whirlwind's head-long might,
Nor once throughout that dismal night,
To fear or doubt gave way.

And what is oft the Christian's life
But storms as dark and drear,
Through which, without one blithesome ray
Of worldly bliss to cheer his way,
He must his vessel steer!

Yet let him ne'er to sorrow yield,
For in the sacred page
A compass shines divinely true,
And self illumined greets his view.
Amidst the tempest's rage.

Then firmly let him grasp the helm,
Though loud the billows roar,
And soon his toils and troubles past.
His anchor he shall safely cast
On Canaan's happy shore.