The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 3.
John Greenleaf Whittier, Ed.

Though the mist upon our jackets
     In the bitter air congeals,
And our lines wind stiff and slowly
     From off the frozen reels;
Though the fog be dark around us,
     And the storm blow high and loud,
We will whistle down the wild wind,
     And laugh beneath the cloud!

In the darkness as in daylight,
     On the water as on land,
God's eye is looking on us,
     And beneath us is His hand!
Death will find us soon or later,
     On the deck or in the cot;
And we cannot meet him better
     Than in working out our lot.

Hurrah! hurrah! the west-wind
     Comes freshening down the bay,
The rising sails are filling;
     Give way, my lads, give way!
Leave the coward landsman clinging
     To the dull earth, like a weed;
The stars of heaven shall guide us,
     The breath of heaven shall speed

1845.