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Come [G]morning on a slate-gray sea
The [D]eye informs him [G]endlessly
Hor-[C]izon, dawn-sur-[G]rounded light
Ser-[D]ene and steady [C]in his [D]sights.
He [G]measures time from fading stars
Brings [D]down the Sun to [G]tell how far
To [C]here and now, the [G]hidden pearl
In bearings, [D]wheels, and [G]worlds.

          (And) [D]all true sailors [G]go atop a [C]hill [G] [D]
          Where [D]all true sailors [G]see, and always [C]will [G] [D]
          A [D]wave as truth, the [G]ocean as what might [C]be [G] [D]
          Where [D]all true sailors [G]reach eternal-[C]ly [D] [G]…

From [G]weather, instinct, distant thrill,
Or [D]duty, some will [G]find a hill
And [C]rise to over-[G]look the sea
Where [D]ocean dreams of [C]what to [D]be.
Now [G]ice and steam, now stormy thing
Now [D]roads to stream on, [G]ways to wing
Through [C]time, the tunnel – [G]endless, brief –
To glory, [D]god, or [G]grief.

The [G]Navigator holds in care
The [D]roads that run to [G]anywhere
Through [C]sounded seas and [G]sudden ways
That [D]open, close, and [C]end our [D]days.
When [G]learners listen, teachers speak;
“The [D]Universe is [G]not complete”
“Who [C]reads the Heavens [G]understands”
“How motion [D]makes the [G]man.”

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