THE CHRISTIAN'S ANCHOR (By: Rachel Elizabeth Patterson)

How oft when youthful skies are clear,
And joy's sweet breezes round us play,
We dream that as through life we steer,
The morrow shall be like to-day.

We paint each scene with rainbow hues,
And gaily sail on stormless seas,
While hope, through life's bright future, views
The port she thinks to make with ease.

But ah! how soon dark clouds of woe
Spread o'er those skies a deepening shade,
And waves of sorrow overflow,
And all the rainbow glories fade.

'Tis thus earth's hopes, however bright,
Expire and vanish, one by one,
E'en as the shore recedes from sight,
When glides the free bark swiftly on.

Yet the redeemed, with anchor firm,
Time's swelling billows shall outride,
And far beyond the raging storm
Shall make the port on Canaan's side.

Oh, may this bright and blissful hope
Fill my poor heart with joy and peace,
Bid me 'mid all life's storms look up
To yon blest land, where storms shall cease.

And when with life's last gale I've striven,
And all its raging waves have pass'd,
Oh, may I, in the port of heaven,
My anchor Hope securely cast.



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