"Build Me up, into the Form of Your liking,

Oh, God of Salvation!

True and Strong, a Goodly Carpenter,

May I, now, but a Child,

One far-off, distant Day become;

That, might smile, while mending, at all Disaster,

And, with Hot Winds, Wrestle!"

The Blessed Boy's Word,

Delighted His Born-God's Holy ear;

For, His Heart was in that Child,

And His Sacred Heart,

Gives Grace to every Art.

A silent smile, played around his Lips,

As the Swells and dimples of the Ocean-Tide,

Play, around the Hulls of Ships,

That, steadily at Anchor, ride.