[Written for the Sentinel.]

THE LIGHTHOUSE

High on the towering crag it stands,This mighty Pharos of animate stoneNot built with hands.Impregnable: of its kind, alone.Yet ever akin by deific decreeTo the sky and the shore and the harbor-bar,Ships and the strength of the singing sea,Mariners staunch and the evening star.

Truth is this rock-girt tower whose mightFoils the weapons of wind and wave:And Love is the light.Flashing far pinions to succor and save.By its golden guidance, through tempest and dark,Sailors the shelter of Spirit find,Where each is guerdoned with peace, while his barkAt anchor rides in the harbor of Mind.

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Article
FROM OUR EXCHANGES
December 8, 1906
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit