A batter'd， wreck'd old man，

    Thrown on this savage¹ shore， far， far from home，

    Pent by the sea and dark rebellious² brows， twelve dreary³

    months，

    Sore， stiff with many toils⁴， sicken'd and nigh to death，

    I take my way along the island's edge，

    Venting⁵ a heavy heart.

    I am too full of woe⁶！

    Haply I may not live another day；

    I cannot rest O God， I cannot eat or drink or sleep，

    Till I put forth⁷ myself， my prayer， once more to Thee，

    Breathe， bathe myself once more in Thee， commune with

    Thee，

    Report myself once more to Thee.

    Thou knowest my years entire， my life，

    My long and crowded life of active work， not adoration⁸

    merely；

    Thou knowest the prayers and vigils of my youth，

    Thou knowest my manhood's solemn and visionary

    meditations⁹，

    Thou knowest how before I commenced I devoted¹⁰ all to

    come to Thee，

    Thou knowest I have in age ratified¹¹ all those vows¹² and

    strictly¹³ kept them，

    Thou knowest I have not once lost nor faith nor ecstasy¹⁴ in

    Thee，

    In shackles¹⁵， prison'd， in disgrace， repining not，

    Accepting all from Thee， as duly come from Thee.

    All my emprises have been fill'd with Thee，

    My speculations¹⁶， plans， begun and carried on in thought of

    Thee，

    Sailing the deep or journeying the land for Thee；

    Intentions， purports¹⁷， aspirations¹⁸ mine， leaving results to

    Thee.

    O I am sure they really came from Thee，

    The urge， the ardor¹⁹， the unconquerable will，

    The potent²⁰， felt， interior command， stronger than words，

    A message from the Heavens whispering to me even in sleep，

    These sped me on.

    By me and these the work so far accomplish'd，

    By me earth's elder cloy'd and stifled²¹ lands uncloy'd，

    unloos'd，

    By me the hemispheres rounded and tied， the unknown to the

    known.

    The end I know not， it is all in Thee，

    Or small or great I know not - haply what broad fields， what

    lands，

    Haply the brutish measureless human undergrowth I know，

    Transplanted there may rise to stature²²， knowledge worthy²³

    Thee，

    Haply the swords I know may there indeed be turn'd to

    reaping-tools，

    Haply the lifeless cross I know， Europe's dead cross， may

    bud and blossom there.

    One effort more， my altar this bleak²⁴ sand；

    That Thou O God my life hast lighted，

    With ray of light， steady， ineffable²⁵， vouchsafed²⁶ of Thee，

    Light rare untellable， lighting²⁷ the very light，

    Beyond all signs， descriptions， languages；

    For that O God， be it my latest word， here on my knees，

    Old， poor， and paralyzed， I thank Thee.

    My terminus near，

    The clouds already closing in upon me，

    The voyage balk'd， the course disputed， lost，

    I yield my ships to Thee.

    My hands， my limbs grow nerveless，

    My brain feels rack'd， bewilder'd，

    Let the old timbers part， I will not part，

    I will cling fast to Thee， O God， though the waves buffet²⁸ me，

    Thee， Thee at least I know.

    Is it the prophet's thought I speak， or am I raving²⁹？

    What do I know of life？ what of myself？

    I know not even my own work past or present，

    Dim ever-shifting guesses of it spread before me，

    Of newer better worlds， their mighty³⁰ parturition³¹，

    Mocking， perplexing me.

    And these things I see suddenly， what mean they？

    As if some miracle， some hand divine unseal'd my eyes，

    Shadowy vast shapes smile through the air and sky，

    And on the distant waves sail countless³² ships，

    And anthems³³ in new tongues I hear saluting³⁴ me.

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