While Hope’s fair star shines forth, auspicious guide,

E’en tempests, storms, and rocks oppose in vain.

Safe, ’mid the ocean’s iterated force,

The sacred vessel shapes her Heaven-directed course.

Samuel Hayes.

There is an hour of peaceful rest,

To mourning wanderers given;

There is a tear for souls distrest,

A balm for every wounded breast,

’Tis found above—in heaven!