Home Harbor

Beyond this space called here and now where hopes are often lost; across the seething sea of time where dreams are tempest tossed, there lies a haven well desired to gain at any cost; to lie at anchor there will be worth all the waters crossed. The port is gained by following a narrow path, we know. Many ships have run aground on reefs of sin and woe. Sound the waves and fathom out the deeps that lie below, and guide your ship to safety, watching ever for the foe. In that haven time will cease; the sea shall be as glass, and all the evils known to man will in the depths be cast. No parting and no weeping, heartaches, too, will pass for joy will reign on every ship whose tow line is made fast. Put forth all effort, then, to reach that harbor through the foam; cease seeking for the pleasure isles that call the soul to roam. Mark the charts with vision clear by heaven's starry dome; make Christ your helmsman; through thickest fog He made that harbor home. Faye Lanham Gibson Copyright, 1987