The Heavenly Pilot

Wilt Thou steer my frail black bark
O’er the dark broad ocean’s foam?
Wilt Thou come, Lord, to my boat,
Where afloat, my will would roam?
Thine the mighty: Thine the small:
Thine to mark men fall, like rain;
God! Wilt Thou grant aid to me
Who came o’er the upheaving main?

--Cormac (837-903)
        Trans. by George Sigurson