When I return to the world again,
The world of fret and fight,
To grapple with godless things and men,
In battle, wrong or right,
I will remember this — the sea,
And the white stars hanging high,
And the vessel's bow
Where calmly now
I gaze to the boundless sky.
When I am deaf with the din of strife,
And blind amid despair,
When I am choked with the dust of life
And long for free soul-air,
I will recall this sound — the sea's,
And the wide horizon's hope,
And the wind that blows
And the phosphor snows
That fall as the cleft waves ope.
When I am beaten — when I fall
On the bed of black defeat,
When I have hungered, and in gall
Have got but shame to eat,
I will remember this — the sea,
And its tide as soft as sleep,
And the clear night sky
That heals for aye
All who will trust its Deep.