by Irwin Russell

Irwin Russell

NO MATTER where we sail,
A storm may come to wreck us,
A bitter wind, to check us
In the quest for unknown lands,
And cast us on the sands,
No matter where we sail:

Then, when my ship goes down,
What choice is left to me
From leaping in the sea—
And willingly forsake
All that the sea can take,
Then, when my ship goes down?

Still, in spite of storm,
From all we feel or fear
A rescue may be near:
Though tempests blow their best,
A manly heart can rest
Still, in spite of storm!

Last updated January 14, 2019