Classic Poem

I am the sea, that treacherous swells for ever —
It ebbs and flows with one unceasing stream:
Thou art the Star, whose radiance faileth never,
Calm o'er the billowy waves its faithful beam.

I am the sea, whose restless surges tremble,
Moved to and fro by every sigh of night;
Thou art the Star, thy shining eyes resemble
The orb that 'mid the storms is hushed and bright.

My Morning Star, the shades of sorrow banish;
Kindle me hope, and bravery in my soul;
Let care's dark shadows from my spirit vanish,
As mountain-clouds before the orient roll.

My Star of Eve, let thy sweet presence often
Shed on this heart of mine its soothing ray:
Yea, in the war of death, thy light shall soften
The last stern foeman, and his battle day.

Fear's idle dream, and hope's all-shadowy pleasure —
Sorrow and joy, that vain and idle be —
The deep has swallowed up the golden treasure:
Soothe thou the tempest and subdue the sea.

Wave after wave rolls on in ceaseless billow;
Age cannot tame the unconquerable tide;
Yon visible surge is but the stately pillow,
Where the wild storms of ancient waters died.

Thou Star of Peace, glory and gladness blending,
Here, as we lowly kneel, look love on high;
Hail, blessed Orb, alive with light, descending,
A Lamp to lead us to our native sky.