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 crost the bar.

from Alfred Lord Tennyson - A Memoir: By his Son.
Crossing the Bar was written in my father's eighty-first year, on a day in October when we came from Aldworth to Farringford. Before reaching Farringford he had the "Moaning of the Bar" in his mind, and after dinner he showed me this poem written out. I said, "This is the crown of your life's work." He answered, "It came in a moment." He explained the 'Pilot' as 'That Divine and Unseen Who is always guarding us.' A few days before my father's death he said to me, "Mind you put Crossing the Bar at the end of all editions of my poems."