And there will rise within him, more and more, The strong desire to learn the utmost lore The great sea holds, that unto none is shown; And he will cry and bid the deep unseal Its sacred secrets, and to him reveal What stern power rules it from what unseen throne. But no vast shape will show a regnant hand, Unless, perchance, wan Sorrow by him stand; From Sorrow's pale, across the seas unsown, _Many and mournful are the memories blown._
O thou that hast, from decades gone before, Of bitter and of sweet the fullest store, Immeasurable sea,--in gloom and glow Our joy, our terror and our love,--we kneel At thy dark altar with a vain appeal; Within thy mighty bosom, far below, Lie hid the mysteries of Him who planned The circling spheres that wheel at His command;-- Ah, Sea of Life, to one sure port we go _Across the tireless tides that ebb and flow!_
End of Project Gutenberg's From The Lips of the Sea, by Clinton Scollard