The wind is fair and storms are far;
The breeze is light and sweet,
And see the waves that ripple gay
In restful calm to meet.
To left or right, my friend, do look,
Behold, the quiet shore.
Regard the sky above and see
The times of yore no more.
For now thy pain is gone from here.
Oh, turn thou not thy head,
To see the past, it’s wicked glint,
But see the hope ahead.