Beside our fathers’ homes and graves,
We consecrate a house to God.
“Here, on many a pebbly shore,
Old Ocean flings his feathery foam,
And close beside the breaker’s roar
The seaman builds his island home.
“’Mid giant cliffs that proudly breast
And backward fling the winter’s spray,
’Mid isles in greenest verdure dressed,
’Tis meet that rugged men should pray.