The night is long, the waters hold
No sign of life, no sight of rest.
Come, Lord, for faith is growing cold,
Come, fill our nets. Need makes us bold
To lay before you hope’s request.
The empty sea gives up its yield,
When we put out at your command
To reap once more this barren field
Where all your bounty lay concealed
Until your love stretched forth its hand.
We fish in vain who fish alone
And think ourselves the harvest’s lord,
For we but catch what you have sown
In seas we neither make nor own,
And have no claim to work’s reward.
The seas and all their fish are yours,
And we your servants at the oar;
Then let us work while night endures
Until the rising sun assures
That you await us on the shore.