From the Omaha Daily Bee, February 23, 1913. By Alexander Blackburn. I stood by the shore at the ebb of the tide When the beach grew each moment more ugly and wide— There were moss-covered rocks, slimy weeds and black mud All the beauty was gone from the place where I stood; With the salt-laden breeze came the stench of decay And I said, “The sea’s charm has been taken away.” Then there came for my cheer this truth which all know: As sure as the ebb of the tide is its flow. On the shores of the ocean of life there are days When the tide is at ebb and heart has no praise. When the flotsam and jetsam are strewn on the strand And our hopes are but wrecks on the sin-blackened sand; When the fragrance of joy has a sickening taint And we turn from the scenes with eyes wet and heart faint; Till there comes from above the blest truth we all know: As sure as the ebb of the tide is its flow.