Toll for the brave - / The brave! that are no more: / All sunk beneath the wave, / Fast by their native shore.

May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,/ The parting word shall pass my lips no more!

There is a fountain filled with blood / Drawn from Emmanuel's veins; / And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, / Lose all their guilty stains.

I'm just riding the wave until it hits the shore.

He that holds fast the golden mean,And lives contently betweenThe little and the great,Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door.

Within a second we were on the shore. We got out fast.