God's are these men, and not the sea's: their trust is set not on her but him.

God's? but who is the God whereto the prayers and incense of these men rise?

What is he, that the wind and sea should fear him, quelled by his sunbright eyes?

What, that men should return again, and hail him Lord of the servile skies?

Hell's own flame at his heavenly name leaps higher and laughs, and its gulfs rejoice:

Plague and death from his baneful breath take life and lighten, and praise his choice:

Chosen are they to devour for prey the tribes that hear not and fear his voice.

Ay, but we that the wind and sea gird round with shelter of storms and waves

Know not him that ye worship, grim as dreams that quicken from dead men's graves:

God is one with the sea, the sun, the land that nursed us, the love that saves.

Love whose heart is in ours, and part of all things noble and all things fair;

Sweet and free as the circling sea, sublime and kind as the fostering air;

Pure of shame as is England's name, whose crowns to come are as crowns that were.

[Pg 194]

IV

I

But the Lord of darkness, the God whose love is a flaming fire,

The master whose mercy fulfils wide hell till its torturers tire,

He shall surely have heed of his servants who serve him for love, not hire.

They shall fetter the wing of the wind whose pinions are plumed with foam:

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