Crossing the Bar

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 and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have cross't the bar.

---Alfred Lord Tennyson

I attended a memorial service for a dear man from our congregation a week ago. He was the father of five, the grandfather of a dozen. He was also a naval officer. This was the poem his children chose to print on the front of his funeral program. All the hymns we sang were nautically themed as well. I must have teared up half a dozen times, and I hardly knew the man. There's just something about the sea that always gets me. Maybe it's because my grandfather was a sailor too.