Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past.
Utaw’a’s tide! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers;
O grant us cool heavens, and favoring airs.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past.