While Hope’s fair star shines forth, auspicious guide,
E’en tempests, storms, and rocks oppose in vain.
Safe, ’mid the ocean’s iterated force,
The sacred vessel shapes her Heaven-directed course.
Samuel Hayes.
There is an hour of peaceful rest,
To mourning wanderers given;
There is a tear for souls distrest,
A balm for every wounded breast,
’Tis found above—in heaven!