The Captain’s Dream.
He looked somewhat crazed, the Captain,1
With his singular rapt face ;2
And his eyes had a strange lustre,3
Which was the result of Grace.4
He was very safe for glory,5
But he didn’t seem to care,6
Said he wouldn’t be contented7
If the whole world wasn’t there.8
For his watchword was Salvation,9
And he seemed to find a spark10
Of a soul in every sinner,11
Though they strove to keep it dark.12
Till one day, Death’s hand upon him,13
His fierce ardour sought to break—14
Laid him low in the poor attic15
He had lived in for our sake.16
Came a night when we stood watching,17
Two or three about him there—18
Suddenly he bid us bear him19
Just to breathe the cool night air.20
So we took the dying Captain21
To the window, moving slow ;22
For we feared his heart would fail him23
At the evil sight below.24
For ’twas drawing on to midnight,25
The New Cut was at its worst,26
Just a maze of drunken clamour,27
God-forsaken and accursed.28
And the yellow lamps were flaring29
High, through that strange market place—30
But there fell another lustre31
On the Captain’s wasted face.32
Ay, and from the garret window,33
As he looked into the town,34
He beheld another City,35
Where the stream of life ran down.36
And he murmured, looking downward—37
‘ In fine linen, clean and white,38
Multitudes which none can number,39
And the Lord God is their light.’40