  If a soul is struggling alone in the dark, When the flood-gates are open, and doubt waves loom high; And you, in your white-canvassed, well balanced barque, Should unfurl its strong sails, and calmly pass by; And that soul be o’erwhelmed, borne ruthlessly down ’Neath the pitiless waves—what gladness or cheer Could come to your soul, when the darkness has flown, Though the bright golden morning, break ever so clear? |
|
