A storm broods far on the foam of the deep;
The moon-path gleams before.
A day and a night, a night and a day,
And the way, love, will be o'er.
Six thousand wandering miles we have come
And never a sail have seen.
The sky above and the sea below
And the drifting clouds between.
Yet in our hearts unheaving hope
And light and joy have slept.
Nor ever lonely has seemed the wave
Tho’ heaving wild it leapt.
For there is talismanic might
Within our vows of love
To breathe us over all seas of life —
On to that Port, above,
Where the great Captain of all ships
Shall anchor them or send
Them forth on a vaster Voyage, yea,
On one that shall not end.
And upon that we two, I think,
Together still shall sail.
Oh, may it be, my own, or may
We perish in death's gale!