The Fishermen's Church

I saw a little church to-day

The quaintest I have seen,

It stood amidst the fishing fleet

And made a charming scene.

Strangers viewed it with interest

This sea-stained House of God

And then as if enchanted,

its moss-grown paths have trod.

This little Church was built for such

Who wished to seek God's face,

For a spirit of holiness seemed to rest

Upon that sacred place.

When the hurricane is sweeping by

And the sea runs white with foam

The song I hear from the little Church

Soars above the ceaseless moan.

I love to read of the olden days

When our Lord walked by the sea

How He taught the poor and humble

By the shores of Galilee.

And when He saw the fishermen

Busy mending their nets,

He called them and they followed Him

To be His honoured guests.

God has not called the greatest,

Nor the highest in the land,

He calls His humble servants

To do what He commands.

And ye who are His followers,

Look up, your Lord is near:

Within His hand He holds the crown

That ye may some day wear.

(Source Hastings Church - E. Verness, the widow of a Hastings fisherman)

(Photo source Google)