For those in peril on the sea

A silent shell on the ocean floor,
Twisted metal bearing witness
to the greatest loss.

In the silence all around,
ghostly shapes move,
Silent cries to a distant past.

Silently creeping out of the dark
come links to the past glory:
The wheel house, the anchor,
A coffee cup warming on the engine,
left, abandoned, but still in place.

Silence.  But can you hear the echoes?
The screams from the dreadful night,
When a great ship lay dying,
The ocean roamed, sighing,
claiming it's terrible sacrifice of human life.

And there she lies, the greatest vessel,
Quiet and serene,
The grave of thousands.
A graveyard, as big as her name, a century on.
Her name, as undying as her legend,
Echoes through the glass of time:

TITANIC


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Eternal Father, strong to save,
whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea.

And when at length her course is run,
Her work for home and country done,
Of all the souls that in her sailed
Let not one life in thee have failed;
But hear from heaven our sailor's cry,
And grant eternal life on high!