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The Fourth Watch
The roaring sea of nations in upheaval,
The Church afloat upon the angry foam,
The LORD, a Watcher, sees her toil, her peril,
And in the fourth watch of the night He’ll come.
Midnight has passed: eyes strain thro’ inky darkness,
But see not yet the shining of His face:
Lest hearts should faint, or Hope should fold her pinions,
The morning star in yonder heavens we trace.
The morning star gleams on the rolling billows,
A radiant light amid the angry storm:
Within its beams we toil in rowing, saying,
“In the fourth watch, perchance, we’ll see His form.”
In the fourth watchso toil a little longer,
Battling against the storm, the wind, the tide.
How soon we shall forget it all, beloved,
When, with our Lord, we reach the other side!
(Mark 6:47-50; Rev. 2:28)
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