MAN sails the deep awhile;

Loud runs the roaring tide;

The seas are wild and wide;

O’er many a salt, o’er many a desert mile,

The unchained breakers ride,

The quivering stars beguile¹.

Hope bears the sole command;

Hope, with unshaken eyes,

Sees flaw and storm arise;

Hope, the good steersman, with unwearying hand,

Steers², under changing skies,

Unchanged toward the land.

O wind that bravely blows!

O hope that sails with all

Where stars and voices call!

O ship undaunted that forever goes

Where God, her admiral,

His battle signal shows!

What though the seas and wind

Far on the deep should whelm

Colours and sails and helm?

There, too, you touch that port that you designed —

There, in the mid-seas’ realm,

Shall you that haven³ find.

Well hast thou sailed: now die,

To die is not to sleep.

Still your true course you keep,

O sailor soul, still sailing for the sky;

And fifty fathom⁴ deep

Your colours still shall fly.

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