Lord, what ship goes forth to-day?
I see her setting West.
Shall she have thy winds aright,
Stars to guide her with their light,
Shall she sweep the seas to sight
Of land and harbour-rest?
Awful is thy ocean-wrath,
And none can chart thy shoals
When storm unassuaging hath
Blotted sun and planet-path.
Shall she, Lord, escape the scath
And live, with all her souls?
For it is a beauteous thing
That ships should sail the sea.
Splendid is their plunge and swing
Into waves that foam and fling
Maelstroms at their bows to bring
Them down to destiny.
And she, too, courageous rides
Away into the gloom.
Now her lights are lost in tides
Of the windy spray that glides
Thro the darkness, Lord, abides
Thy Dove with her — or Doom?
I shall know perhaps some day,
Or, knowing not, recall
How my heart was fain to pray
For a ship that bravely lay
To her task: O Lord, so may
Each vessel of us all!