A translation of the psalms of David :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sure a seaman's lot is bless'd,
Gen'rous, faithful, frank, and brave,
Since the Lord himself possess'd
Of disciples from the wave.
Sure a realm, whose fame depends
On their deeds the rest transcends.

Yea, from fishers on the coast,
Poor, and by the nations scorn'd,
With our navy's gallant host
Seas are crouded and adorn'd,
Wheresoe'er the billows toss,
Bearing Christ's triumphant cross.

Lo! the Lord is on the cliff,
Peter's partner, come away;
Leave thy tackle and thy skiff
For a life to preach and pray—
James shall answer the command,
Soon as he can make the land.

Let the net no more be hawl'd,
Zebedee, thy sire neglect
Now, the son of thunder call'd,
E'en the word of God direct—
Thou disputing sects shall foil,
And conviction bless thy toil.

176

Having now obtain'd release
From thy low conerns and cares,
Go, and preach the Spaniard peace,
Teach ambitious pomp her pray'rs,
Fav'ring still, in Jesus' stead,
God in England at the head.

O that all the human race
In what region, clime, or zone,
Would the genuine faith embrace,
As in these thy kingdom's known;
Prosper thou the pilgrims sent
To prepare the great event.

Prosper thou, O God of light,
Them which propagate thy word
In the realms that fiends benight—
By no seas or toils deterr'd;
More and more in this employ
Thy cherubic guard convoy.

God of heartiness and strength,
God of English pray'r and laud,
May good-nature speed at length,
Join'd with grace, to foes abroad,
Thou that lend'st a special ear
To the simple and sincere.