As I Stand By The Cross On The Lone Mountain'S Crest, Looking Over The Ultimate Sea, In The Gloom Of The Mountain A Ship Lies At Rest, And One Sails Away From The Lea: One Spreads Its White Wings On A Far-Reaching Track, With Pennant And Sheet Flowing Free; One Hides In The Shadow With Sails Laid Aback, The Ship That Is Waiting For Me! But Lo! In The Distance The Clouds Break Away, The Gate'S Glowing Portals I See; And I Hear From The Outgoing Ship In The Bay The Song Of The Sailors In Glee. So I Think Of The Luminous Footprints That Bore The Comfort O'Er Dark Galilee, And Wait For The Signal To Go To The Shore, To The Ship That Is Waiting For Me.