Oh! brightly o'er the surging wave,
That lustre shines to bless and save;
And on through billows thund'ring roll,
Conducts me to my heavenly goal.
That star by gracious Love was placed,
To look, in beauty uneffaced,
Over the wildest wrath of storms,
And scatter round its glittering charms:
It is Religion, and its ray
Is fed by angel hands alway: