ON a sunken rock in the open sea 

Stood a light-house high and strong; 

And the lamp was there with its splendid flame, 

And the keeper, all night long.

But the keeper had naught of pity or love;

A hard, selfish man was he; 

He shaded the lamp, and sent out no light

O'er the dark and perilous sea.

Safe in comfort himself, the nightly ship

Might strike, or go safely by. 

"Let them strike, and go down, who cares?"

said he;

"Men have only once to die." 

One dismal night, by a strong wind driven,

Came a ship with all sails spread: 

No one thought of danger; for no one knew 

Of the sunken rock ahead.

Fast sweeping along, came the sail-clad ship,

The white foam leaped from her prow; 

"All's well!" cried the watchman pacing the deck; 

"All's well!" passed from stern to bow.

But scarce died away had the watchman's cry, 

When crash, plunged the ship to her fate;

And there was the beacon that would have saved; 

But 'twas seen, alas! Too late.

Oh! Fearful cries of the drowning men 

From the seething waves that night;

And they cursed, as they sank, the merciless man 

Who refused his saving light.

The men of the ship are the heathen world;

The beacon, the book of God; 

The keeper, the Christian who shades his lamp,

And sends not its light abroad.

The Children's Record.