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 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 Seaman, Tempest-Tost,
Trying Now To Make The Harbour,
In The Darkness May Be Lost.