224 Let The Lower Lights Be Burning.
Brightly beams our Fathers mercy,
From His light-house ever more,
But to us He gives the keeping,
Of the lights along the shore.
Let the lower lights be burning!
Send a gleam across the wave!
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman,
You may rescue, you may save.
Dark the night of sin has settled,
Loud the angry billows roar;
Eager eyes are watching, longing,
For the lights along the shore.
Trim your feeble lamp, my brother;
Some poor sailor tempest-tost;
Trying now to make the harbor,
In the darkness may be lost.
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