You have moved in love to others, To new unnull pursuits you go In restless faith those whiter flows Follow you to fuller waters. My faith's poorer, my grasp infirm Upon the tugging rudder That guides me to my uttermost; I fear I sail far more in harm Than in health. Where is your dear hand Steady on the trembling tiller?- Steering clear to vaster endeavors Beyond horizons, past sight of land. Where I go's no more than where I am, Nor faith nor hope proffer roses To blank the claims of fear's supposes, Or dare me greater be than man. May bride and child and wealth be yours And all the winnings dreams suggest,- If I were but an infrequent guest I'd deem myself the treasurer.