1 Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me;
And may there be no moaning of the bar
When I put out to sea.
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound or foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home,
Turns again home.
2 Twilight and evening bell,
And after that, the dark;
And may there be no sadness of farewell
When I at last embark.
For tho’ from out the bourne of time and place
The floods may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face,
When I have crossed the bar,
When I have crossed the bar.