Not Me Lord
By  Frank R. Okert

Frank was a Volunteer Coast Guard Reverend in Sitka, Alaska where I lived for 12 years from April 1995 to August 2007. This poem is one of the things that motivated me to write Nautical Poetry.

A ship lay battered by the waves
where she had run aground.
Somehow she strayed from waters deep
where ships are usually found.
I stood and gazed at that old wreck
and thought of days gone past,
when this proud vessel plied the waves
and braved the stormy blasts.

How could it happen, this shameful end,
of vessel proud and brave?
Ah, better far than ending here
she'd sunk beneath the wave.
She looked like she'd been soundly made,
her timbers still looked strong.
Yet here she lay, a hopeless wreck,
and I  wondered what went wrong.

It seemed a still small voice then spoke,
a voice I'd learned to know,
that told me ships don't run aground,
where ships are meant to go.
It's only when they stray of course
and sail the shallow strand,
that they end up here, like this ship did,
a-bleaching in the sand.

I fell in prayer and cried,  "Oh Lord,
oh hear me just once more.
May I not end a worthless hulk
somewhere along the shore.
Oh keep me where the billows roll,
where there are souls to save.
Till at they call, still under sail,
I sink beneath the wave."