With banners her masts adorning,
And fair as the ocean's foam,
The ship sailed out in the morning,
Out of her harbor home.
All new from the hand of her maker,
Who watched her sailing away
To battle with storm and breaker,
To wrestle with wind and spray.

'Tis many a month since the sailing,
But the builder is hopeful still;
As the glow in the west is paling,
He stands on the seaward hill.
And the ship comes homeward slowly,
All battered, and rent, and frayed;
But he welcomes her though she is lowly,
For he loveth the ship he made.

O Builder of human vessels,
That sail in the morning of youth
Out on the unknown ocean
With yearning for light and truth!

Art Thou for Thy vessels watching,
Awake on Thy seaward hill?
Wilt know us when, worn and weary,
We wait for Thy further will?