< Littell's Living Age < Volume 128 < Issue 1655
For works with similar titles, see Jubilate.

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JUBILATE.

Gray distance hid each shining sail
⁠By ruthless breezes borne from me;
And lessening, fading, faint and pale,
⁠My ships went forth to sea.

Where misty breakers rose and fell
⁠I stood and cowered hopelessly;
For every wave had tales to tell
⁠Of wrecks far out at sea.

To-day a song is on my lips;
⁠Earth seems a paradise to me;
For God is good, and lo! my ships
⁠Are coming home from sea.

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