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 sailor, tempest-tossed, Trying now to make the harbor, In the darkness may be lost.