IN A BOAT
Lady!Lady!Upon Heaven-height,Above the harsh morningIn the mere light.Above the spindriftAnd above the snow,Where no seas tumble,And no winds blow.The twisting tides,And the perilous sandsUpon all sidesAre in your holy hands.The wind harriesAnd the cold kills;But I see your chapelOver far hills.My body is frozen,My soul is afraid:Stretch out your hands to me,Mother and maid.Mother of Christ,And Mother of me,Save me aliveFrom the howl of the sea.If you will Mother meTill I grow old,I will hang in your chapelA ship of pure gold.
Lady!Lady!Upon Heaven-height,Above the harsh morningIn the mere light.Above the spindriftAnd above the snow,Where no seas tumble,And no winds blow.The twisting tides,And the perilous sandsUpon all sidesAre in your holy hands.The wind harriesAnd the cold kills;But I see your chapelOver far hills.My body is frozen,My soul is afraid:Stretch out your hands to me,Mother and maid.Mother of Christ,And Mother of me,Save me aliveFrom the howl of the sea.If you will Mother meTill I grow old,I will hang in your chapelA ship of pure gold.
Lady!Lady!Upon Heaven-height,Above the harsh morningIn the mere light.
Lady!Lady!
Upon Heaven-height,
Above the harsh morning
In the mere light.
Above the spindriftAnd above the snow,Where no seas tumble,And no winds blow.
Above the spindrift
And above the snow,
Where no seas tumble,
And no winds blow.
The twisting tides,And the perilous sandsUpon all sidesAre in your holy hands.
The twisting tides,
And the perilous sands
Upon all sides
Are in your holy hands.
The wind harriesAnd the cold kills;But I see your chapelOver far hills.
The wind harries
And the cold kills;
But I see your chapel
Over far hills.
My body is frozen,My soul is afraid:Stretch out your hands to me,Mother and maid.
My body is frozen,
My soul is afraid:
Stretch out your hands to me,
Mother and maid.
Mother of Christ,And Mother of me,Save me aliveFrom the howl of the sea.
Mother of Christ,
And Mother of me,
Save me alive
From the howl of the sea.
If you will Mother meTill I grow old,I will hang in your chapelA ship of pure gold.
If you will Mother me
Till I grow old,
I will hang in your chapel
A ship of pure gold.