What, O Eternity,
Is Time to thee?-
What to the boundless All
My portion small?
Lift up thine eyes, my soul!
Against the tidal roll
Stands many a stone,
Whereon the breakers thrown
Are dashed to spray-
Else were the Ocean dumb.
So, in the way
Of tides eternal, thou
Abidest now;
And God himself doth come
A suppliant to thee,
Love's prisoned thought to free.