A batter'd and wreck'd old man,
Thrown on this savage shore, far far from home,
Pent by the sea and dark rebellious brows, twelve dreary months,
Sore, stiff with many toils, sicken'd and nigh to death,
I take my way,
Venting a heavy heart.

I am too full of woe!
Haply I may not live another day;
I cannot rest O God, I cannot eat or drink or sleep,
Till I put forth myself, my prayer once more to Thee,
Breathe, I bathe myself once more in Thee, commune with Thee,
Report myself once more to Thee.

 ... 

Old, poor, and paralyzed, I thank Thee.

 ... 
I will cling fast to Thee, O God,
Thee O God at least I know.

 ...