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Far, far on other isles,

Where other stars are beaming,

Where the bright rose on Christmas smiles,

And Whitsun lights with frost are gleaming,

Yon kindly Moon, and glorious Sun

Their race, as here, unwearying run.

What if all else be strange?

The two great lights of heaven

Know neither error, stay, nor change.

By them all else to sight is given;

And with them duly, fresh and bright,

Home thoughts return both day and night.

Glory to our true Sun,

Who shineth far and near;

Who for His duteous Spouse hath won

A place as of a lunar sphere;

And by their light, where'er she roam,

Faith finds a safe, familiar home.

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