Oft, when the thunder growled,
Oft, when the nigthwind howled
  Round my safe Hall,
Then I thought of my child,
Tossed by the Ocean's wild
  Rising and fall.

Oft, when the stars did shine,
O how my soul would pine
  For my blithe boy:
Now God our Lord be praised,
Who my fond prayers graced
  Richly with joy.

Calm stood my son and brave
On the tremendous wave
  Of the fierce sea:
Lo, now he save and sound
Stands on his native ground:
  Welcome to thee!

Now for a long, long rest
In the old eagle's nest
  Stayst thou with me:
Knowst thou, where rest is best?
Come to thy mother's breast
  And thou wilt see!