The breaking waves dashed high,
And the heavy night hung dark
Not as the conqueror comes,
Not as the flying come,
Amidst the storm they sang,
The ocean eagle soared
There were men with hoary hair
There was woman's fearless eye,
What sought they thus afar?
Ay, call it holy ground,
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed;
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.
They, the true-hearted came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;
In silence and in fear;
They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer
And the stars heard, and the sea;
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the anthem of the free!
From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roared
This was their welcome home!
Amidst that pilgrim band:
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
The soil where first they trod.
They have left unstained what there they found,
Freedom to worship God.
This poem was requested by Tammy's Grandma Della.