JT-23-THE POLAR STAR.

THE POLAR STAR.

All hail I thou midnight constant guide,
Thou steady polar star;
The sailor on the stormy tide,
Salutes thee from afar.

When wind and billows long prevail,
And clouds of darkness rise,
Then sailors’ art and courage fail,
Beneath inclement skies.

On boist’rous seas unfriendly tossed,
The vessel runs astray;
The pilot has his compass lost,
Nor knows the dang’rous way.

But when the clouds disperse and fly,
And heaven grows calm and clear,
He sees thee shining in the sky,
And bids farewell to fear.

His course direct, by thee he learns,
And seeks the destined strand;
The dangers of the deep discerns,
And finds his native land.

The lonely pilgrim as he strays,
Nor devious path can see,
May boldly tread the sylvan maze,
And safely trust in thee.

But should the sky thick clouds resume,
And hide thee from his sight,
He’s lost! and wanders in the gloom,
And wanders from the right.

Ah! could we always see thee plain,
Nor clouds to interpose,
We then could ride the stormy main,
Nor fear the wind that blows.

But yonder shines a brighter beam,
Amid the throne of heaven;
His blest illuminating gleam,
Lights up the darkest eve’n.

While sailing on the tide of life,
The boist’rous billows roll,
The stormy winds of angry strife,
Alarm the fainting soul.

Sometimes how dark the hemisphere,
How roll the seas below--
How nigh the rocks of death appear,
How strong the tides of wo!

My vessel tossed on distant seas,
Her sails are ripped and torn;
She reels before the stormy breeze,
And makes me pensive mourn.

But all the dangers that arise,
Can’t make me yet despair;
I see my pilot in the skies,
Who smiling, points me there.

This steady star I keep in sight,
As on the waves I’m driven;
The veering breeze may blow me right,
And land me save in heaven.

Then let me not so much complain,
And let me weep no more;
This star directs across the main,
Towards a peaceful shore.

Propitious star, forever shine,
And never withdraw from me;
Direct this devious course of mine,
Over this tempestuous sea.

O! lead me on to those bright plains,
Where my rich treasure lies;
Where saints immortal feel no pains,
Nor tears bedew their eyes.