On its resistless tide
It bears both great and small
With equal, silent, comprehensive love
To that great sea whose calm no storm can move,
God’s grace o’er-arching all.
So may his spirit clear,
Untroubled by the scoff, the sneer, the sting
Of clashing creeds, find heaven a real thing,
And walk with seraphs here.
Thou great Triune! thy sign