Solitary star, lonesome blinking light,
sentinel on this ragged night,
I fight the gale, the stinging sleet.
My frail, small craft strains for yonder point
Where shards beneath the boiling sea
lurk in evil hope of my descent to devil's teeth,
to sleep in the cold, dark and silent deep.
Can You see me?
Lighthouse, do You know how vain my spirit spent
that Grace which once fell to me as free as gentle rain?
I missed it not, 'til this awful squall refreshed my memory.
It is gone. Wisdom forsakes me—or perhaps it was I who cast It off.
How can that be? How can that be? I barely felt It fly away.
But, when morning breaks the sun will rule the sky.
You are ever at your sentry post and as I sail by You call to me:
"As men grow old they come to know, Lighthouse guides them home."