We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
'Tis of the wave and not the rock;
'T is but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest's roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee, are all with thee !

THE EVENING STAR.

JUST above yon sandy bar,

As the day grows fainter and dimmer, Lonely and lovely, a single star

Lights the air with a dusky glimmer.

Into the ocean faint and far

Falls the trail of its golden splendor,

And the gleam of that single star

Is ever refulgent, soft, and tender.

Chrysaor rising out of the sea,

Showed thus glorious and thus emulous, Leaving the arms of Callirrhoe,

For ever tender, soft, and tremulous.

Thus o'er the ocean faint and far

Trailed the gleam of his falchion brightly;

Is it a God, or is it a star

That, entranced, I gaze on nightly!

THE SECRET OF THE SEA

AH! what pleasant visions haunt me As I gaze upon the sea!

All the old romantic legends,

All my dreams, come back to me.

Sails of silk and ropes of sendal,
Such as gleam in ancient lore;
And the singing of the sailors,

And the answer from the shore !

Most of all, the Spanish ballad

Haunts me oft, and tarries long, Of the noble Count Arnaldos

And the sailor's mystic song.

Like the long waves on a sea-beach, Where the sand as silver shines,

With a soft, monotonous cadence,

Flow its unrhymed lyric lines ;

Telling how the Count Arnaldos,
With his hawk upon his hand,

Saw a fair and stately galley,

Steering onward to the land;

How he heard the ancient helmsman Chant a song so wild and clear, That the sailing sea-bird slowly

Poised upon the mast to hear,