Holding on with a firm, loving clasp to the hand
As o’er it the dark billows roll.
Perchance in smooth waters, our life-boat may glide,
While some tempest-tossed brother may be
Sinking into the dark waves of sin, by our side;
Down into the turbulent sea.
Shall we stand idly by, without seeking to save
From a fate which far worse may be,
Than the fate of that captain, so gallant and brave,
Who was drowned in the depths of the sea.