BRIGHTLY beams our Father’s mercy,
From His lighthouse evermore,
But to us He gives the keeping,
Of the lights along the shore.
Let the lower lights be burning,
Send a gleam across the waves,
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 lamps, my brother,
Some poor sailor, tempest tossed,
Trying now to make the harbour,
In the darkness may be lost.