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They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters: These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.

She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.

She bears her down majestically near, Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.

For why drives on that ship so fast, Without or wave or wind? The air is cut away before, And closes from behind.

A strong nor'wester's blowing, Bill; Hark! don't ye hear it roar now? Lord help 'em, how I pities them Unhappy folks on shore, now.

The true ship is the ship builder.

When rats leave a sinking ship, where exactly do they think they're going?

For she is such a smart little craft, Such a neat little, sweet little craft-- Such a bright little, Tight little, Slight little, Light little, Trim little, slim little craft!

A great ship askes deepe waters.

The wooden wall alone should remain unconquered.

Morn on the waters, and purple and bright Bursts on the billows the flushing of light O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun, See the tall vessel goes gallantly on.

Ships that sailed for sunny isles, But never came to shore.

Being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned.

Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass, And her ropes are taut with the dew, For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, We're sagging south on the Long Trail, the trail that is always new.

The Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds-- The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband an' 'e gives 'er all she needs; But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun', They're just the same as you an' me, a'-plyin' up an' down.

Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream, An', taught by time, I tak' it so--exceptin' always steam, From coupler-flange to spindle-guide I see thy Hand, O God-- Predestination in the stride o' yon connectin'-rod.

Build me straight. O worthy Master! Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!

There's not a ship that sails the ocean, But every climate, every soil, Must bring its tribute, great or small, And help to build the wooden wall!

And the wind plays on those great sonorous harps, the shrouds and masts of ships.

Like ships that have gone down at sea, When heaven was all tranquillity.