Tossed on the billows of the main, <br />And doomed from zone to zone to roam, <br />The seaman toiled for others' gain, <br />But, for himself, he had no home. <br /> <br /> <br />No father's door was open flung <br />For him, just 'rescued from the wreck'; <br />No sister clasped her arms and hung, <br />In speechless joy, around his neck; <br /> <br /> <br />But he was cast upon a world <br />More dangerous than the ocean's roar, <br />When o'er his bark the surges curled, <br />And drove it on a leeward shore. <br /> <br /> <br />He had no home;-and so had He <br />Who, as his bark began to fill, <br />Said to the Lake of Galilee, <br />When lashed by tempests, 'Peace! Be still!' <br /> <br /> <br />Of winds and dashing waves the sport, <br />By perils, while at sea, beset, <br />The sailor found himself, in port, <br />Exposed to greater perils yet. <br /> <br /> <br />False brethren were his perils there, <br />And perils by his countrymen, <br />And perils by the sirens fair <br />That lured him to the robber's den. <br /> <br /> <br />But now a brother stands, in stead, <br />With open arms, to take him in, <br />And spreads a banquet and a bed <br />That may be tasted without sin. <br /> <br /> <br />Yes!-the poor seaman hath a home! <br />We thank thee, God, for what we see; <br />Let him no more 'mid perils roam, <br />But come, at once, to it and thee.<br /><br />John Pierpont<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hymns-for-dedication-viii/
