Soft Soft Wind, From Out The Sweet South Sliding, Waft Thy Silver Cloud Webs Athwart The Summer Sea; Thin Thin Threads Of Mist On Dewy Fingers Twining Weave A Veil Of Dappled Gauze To Shade My Babe And Me. Deep Deep Love, Within Thine Own Abyss Abiding, Pour Thyself Abroad, O Lord, On Earth And Air And Sea; Worn Weary Hearts Within Thy Holy Temple Hiding, Shield From Sorrow, Sin, And Shame My Helpless Babe And Me. From The Water-Babies. 1862