THE IRISH BEAUTYBy: Darrelyn L. Tutt
They said she was a beauty,Never saw her for myself;But a replica to suit her,Sits up nicely on my shelf.
She was made a wooden vessel,With the strongest sail and mast;Made by hands that knew the ocean,And a mind to hold her fast.
She was everything a sailor,Ever hopes for in a dream;She was named "The Irish Beauty,"And her voyage always clean.
Never mind the ocean churning,Never mind the tempest’s gale;She was deemed to be successful,If her name was on the sail.
It was on a night uncertain,When the winds began to blow;The waves began to beat about,And toss her to and fro.
The sailors unrelenting,Never wavered from her side;She was sure to match the fierceness,On her strength and in her pride.
But a boat is only wooden,And constructed out of hand;Can be beaten and be broken,By what can’t be seen or planned.
So it was "The Irish Beauty,"When the winds became untame;The churning of the ocean sank,"The Irish Beauty’s" fame.
We are each like broken vessels,We are human and we’re frail;Like the ship we can be broken,And so often we can fail.
Some ride voyages uncertain,Some have storms that rage within;Some have battles so enormous,Seem impossible to win.
Every sailor needs a Savior,Broken vessels let us know;Jesus is the only answer,When the winds begin to blow.-------