​

Bayard Taylor. Arr. from Christoph Willibald Gluck.

1. The clouds are scud - ding a - cross the moon, A

2. Broth - ers, a night of ter - ror and gloom Speaks

3. Down with the hatch - es on those who sleep! The

4. Tho' the rig - ging shriek in his might-y grip, And the

5. Yet, cour - age, broth - ers! we trust the wave, With

mist - y light is on the sea; The

in the cloud and gath-'ring roar, Thank

wild and whis - tling deck have - we; Good

na - ked spars be snapped a - way, Lashed

God a - bove, our guid- ing chart; So ​

wind in the shrouds has a win - try tune, And the

Gold, He has giv'n us broad sea-room, A

watch, my brothers, to - night we'll keep, While the

to the helm, we'll drive our ship In the

whether to har - bor or o - cean-grave, Be it

foam is fly - ing free, . . . . . . And the

thou - sand miles from shore, . . . . . . A

tem - pest is on the sea, . . . . . . While the

teeth of the whelm - ing spray, . . . . . . In the

still with a cheer - y heart, . . . . . . Be it

foam . . is fly - ing free.

thou - sand miles from shore.

tem - pest is on the sea!

teeth of the whelm - ing spray!

still with a cheer - y heart!