Parting

Not of the boisterous wave,Not of the tempest's power,Not of the rent and cleaving bark,Speak at this sacred hour.

God of the trusting soul!God of the traveller, hear!And from our parting cup of loveWring out these dregs of fear.

Art thou a God at home,Where the bright fireside smiles,And not abroad, upon the deep,Mid danger's deadliest wiles?

What though the eyes so dearTo distant regions turn,Their tender language in our heartsLike vestal flame shall burn.

What though the voice belovedRespond not to our pain,We'll shut its music in the soulUntil we meet again.

Farewell! we're travellers all,With one bless'd goal in view,One rest, one everlasting home,Sweet friend, a sweet adieu!