Classic Poem

Now is it most like as if on ocean
Across cold water we sail in our keels,
Over the wide sea in our ocean-steeds,
Faring on in our flood-wood. Fearful the stream,
The tumult of waters, whereon we toss
In this feeble world. Fierce are the surges
On the ocean-lanes. Hard was our life
Before we made harbor over the foaming seas.
Then help was vouchsafed when God's Spirit-Son
Guided us to the harbor of salvation and granted us grace
That we may understand over the ship's side
Where to moor our sea-steeds, our ocean-stallions,
Fast at anchor. Let us fix our hope
Upon that haven which the Lord of heaven,
In holiness on high, has opened by His Ascension.