On the Sea VII

I cry to God with a melting heart and knees that smite together,
While anguish is in all loins,
On a day when the oarsmen are astounded at the deep,
When even the pilots find not their hands.
How shall I be otherwise, since I, on a ship’s deck,
Suspended between waters and heavens,
Am dancing and tossed about?—But this is but a light thing,
If I may but hold the festal dance in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem!