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Though swathed in mists and storm
That Steersman's shape, that Steersman's face, may be,
Yet may we sometimes see
Erect, unmoved, the Watcher's form.

Though starlight fails us, though the wild ship goes
Through lampless wastes where never sun arose,
Yet, mother, “Hitherto”—so thou didst say—
“The Lord hath helped us on our way.”
I take the inspiring word,
On thy lips lately heard:
“Through starless nights, through days of strife and storm,
May he who guided two, guide still one form!”
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