Off Cape Horn There Are

I Must Go Down To The Sea Again, To The Lonely Sea And The Sky; And All I Ask Is A Tall Ship And A Star To Steer Her By.

God Warms His Hands At Man's Heart When He Prays.

When The Last Sea Is Sailed And Last Shallow Charted, When The Last Field Is Reaped And The Last Harvest Stored, When The Last Fire Is Out And The Last Guest Departed Grant The Last Prayer That I Pray, Be Good To Me, O Lord.

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries; I Never Hear The West Wind But Tears Are In My Eyes. For It Comes From The West Lands, The Old Brown Hills, And April's In The West Wind, And Daffodils.

All The Great Things Of Life Are Swiftly Done, Creation, Death, And Love The Double Gate. However Much We Dawdle In The Sun We Have To Hurry At The Touch Of Fate.