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