O world of waters, o'er whose bed
The chainless winds unceasing swell,
That claim'st a kindred over head,
As 'twixt the skies thou seem'st to dwell;
And e'en on earth art but a spell,
Amid their realms to wander free--
Thy task of pride hath speeded well,
Thou deep, eternal, boundless sea.

O storms of night and darkness, flung
In blackening chaos o'er the world,
When thunderpeals are dreadly rung,
Mid clouds in sightless fury hurl'd,
Types of a mightier power, impearl'd
With mercy's soft, redeeming ray,
Still at His voice your wings are furl'd,
Ye wake to own and to obey.

O thou blest whole of light and love,
Thou glorious realm of earth and sky,
That breath'st of blissful hope above,
When all of thine hath wander'd by,
Throughout thy range, nor tear nor sigh
But breathes of bliss, of beauty's reign,
And concord, such as in the sky
The soul is taught to meet again.

O man, who veil'd in deepest night
This beauty-breathing world of thine,