Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me,
And may there be no moaning at the bar
When I put out to see.
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep,
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark,
And may there be no sadness for farwell
When I enbark.
For tho' from out our bourne of time and place,
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face,
When I have crossed the bar.
And one clear call for me,
And may there be no moaning at the bar
When I put out to see.
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep,
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark,
And may there be no sadness for farwell
When I enbark.
For tho' from out our bourne of time and place,
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face,
When I have crossed the bar.
