W HERESOE'ER a boy go sailing,
Or whate'er the wind prevailing,
He will hear some sailor hailing: —
" Ship, ahoy! "
Though with strangers ever meeting,
Where salutes are only fleeting,
Still there 's always friendly greeting
For a boy.

Though a stranger he may roam
Underneath the arching dome,
Fate will always find a home
For a boy;
And on this he may depend:
That where'er his footsteps trend
God will always find a friend
For a boy.

Mother in the armchair sitting, —
Tender visions past her flitting;
But the tears that stop her knitting
Don't annoy.
Though at home remain the brother,
Still the heavy-hearted mother
Keeps on yearning for that other