From The Sea Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

I sat by the fireside alone an' wearily:
I heard the rain beat an' the wind moanin' by
A hand came to the shakin' door, and one came in to me,
An' my boy stood by me once again, my boy I lost at sea.

He tirled not at the pin, he made no cry nor moan:
But he lifted the latch, and he stood by the hearthstone.
The wet weed was about him from his heel to his crown,
An' drippin' to the floor did the salt streams run down.

He said: 'O weep not, mother, tho' I come not again:
I grieve to hear your tears fall as slow as autumn rain.
O far above my drowned bones the stormy waters roll,
For the sea hath my body, but Christ hath my soul.

Christ who called fishermen all to follow Him,
Christ who stilled the stormy winds when moon an' stars were dim,
Christ who walked so wondrously on waves of Galilee,
Saved my soul from drownin' deep in hollows o' the sea.

O fathoms under water my bones are white as snow:
My soul by Him that saved me is washen white also:
O weep not that above me winds blow an' waters roll,
For the sea hath my body, but Christ hath my soul.'