Thou, who on the whirlwind ridest,
At whose word the thunder roars,
Who, in majesty, presidest
O'er the oceans and their shores;
From those shores, and from the oceans,
We, the children of the sea,
Come to pay thee our devotions,
And to give this house to thee.
When, for business on great waters,
We go down to sea in ships,
And our weeping wives and daughters
Hang, at parting, on our lips,
This, our Bethel, shall remind us,
That there 's One who heareth prayer,
And that those we leave behind us
Are a faithful pastor's care.
Visions of our native highlands,
In our wave-rocked dreams embalmed,
Winds that come from spicy islands
When we long have lain becalmed,
Are not to our souls so pleasant
As the offerings we shall bring
Hither, to the Omnipresent,
For the shadow of his wing.
When in port, each day that 's holy,
To this house we 'll press in throngs;
When at sea, with spirit lowly,
We 'll repeat its sacred songs.
Outward bound, shall we, in sadness,
Lose its flag behind the seas;
Homeward bound, we 'll greet with gladness
Its first floating on the breeze.
Homeward bound!-with deep emotion,
We remember, Lord, that life
Is a voyage upon an ocean,
Heaved by many a tempest's strife.
Be thy statutes so engraven
On our hearts and minds, that we,
Anchoring in Death's quiet haven,
All may make our home with thee.