  Lady! Lady! Upon Heaven-height, Above the harsh morning In the mere light. Above the spindrift And above the snow, Where no seas tumble, And no winds blow. The twisting tides, And the perilous sands Upon all sides Are in your holy hands. 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. Mother of Christ, And Mother of me, Save me alive From the howl of the sea. If you will Mother me Till I grow old, I will hang in your chapel A ship of pure gold. |
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