Men In A Ship Are Always Looking

I Hold That When A Person Dies / His Soul Returns Again To Earth; / Arrayed In Some New Flesh Disguise / Another Mother Gives Him Birth / With Sturdier Limbs And Brighter Brain.

And May We Find When Ended Is The Page, Death But A Tavern On Our Pilgrimage.

The Corn That Makes The Holy Bread By Which The Soul Of Man Is Fed, The Holy Bread, The Food Unpriced, Thy Everlasting Mercy, Christ.

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.

Lord, Give To Me Who Are Old And Rougher The Things That Little Children Suffer, And Let Keep Bright And Undefiled The Young Years Of The Little Child.