While yet I make forward

With face toward thee

Not turned yet in shoreward,

Be thine upon me;

Be thy light on my forehead or ever I turn it again from the sea.

As a kiss on my brow

Be the light of thy grace,

Be thy glance on me now

From the pride of thy place:

As the sign of a sire to a son be the light on my face of thy face.

Thou wast father of olden

Times hailed and adored,

And the sense of thy golden

Great harp's monochord

Was the joy in the soul of the singers that hailed thee for master and lord.

Fair father of all

In thy ways that have trod,

That have risen at thy call,

That have thrilled at thy nod,

Arise, shine, lighten upon me, O sun that we see to be God.

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