Whose Shall The Welcome Be? Poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward

The wave goes down, the wind goes down,
The gray tide glitters on the sea,
The moon seems praying in the sky.
Gates of the New Jerusalem
(A perfect pearl each gate of them)
Wide as all heaven swing on high;
Whose shall the welcome be?


The wave went down, the wind went down,
The tide of life turned out to sea;
Patience of pain and grace of deed,
The glories of the heart and brain,
Treasure that shall not come again;
The human singing that we need,
Set to a heavenly key.


The wave goes down, the wind goes down,
All tides at last turn to the sea.
We learn to take the thing we have.
Thou who hast taught us strength in grief,
As moon to shadow, high and chief,
Shine out, white soul, beyond the grave,
And light our loss of thee!