Rwy'n morio tua chartre'm Nêr
Toward heaven, my Father's home, I steer,
Tossed on the billowy flood:
A man that hath no purpose here
Save seeking for his God.
Let me not swerve to right or left,
Or of thy guidance tire;
Kept in the course that heavenward leads,
Through gulphs of flood and fire.
Opposing tempests beat me back,
And I have strength no more;
O take me, Jesus, in thine arms,
And bear to yonder shore.