Hymn XXXVII. For a Seaman.
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The Seaman is here personated instructing himself, by
expressing the pleasures; profits, and perils of his
calling; and petitioning God to keep him thankfull
for his deliverances, and mindfull to performe
the vows, he made in times of extream danger.
Sing this as the former.
[1]
We, whom affaires employed keep,
Where mightie-waters be,
There view the terrors of the Deep;
Great wonders, there, we see.
And, in that place,
Gods helping grace,
We tast, so many waies,
That none are bound
More oft, to sound
Their dear Protectors praise.
2
The barren Flood, which Landmen dread,
To us, doth pleasures yield;
And, we thereby, are cloth'd and fed,
As from a fruitfull field.
That, we, likewise,
Might rightly prize,
The blessings we receive;
We, ev'ry day,
To watch and pray,
Some, just occasions have.
3
To cheer us in our painfull trade,
The Sea, sometime, doth smile:
Strange prospects, there, a means are made,
Long journyes, to beguile.
A loftie Course,
As on a Horse,
Vpon the waves we ride;
And, then the wind,
Attends behind,
Or, lackies, by our side.
4
Sometime, again, that, heed we may
Gods mercies, and our sin;
Black stormes, the skies do overlay;
The Seas, to swell begin.
The Billows roare,
And, on the shoare,
They Spit their Snowie-fome,
And, perils great,
The passage get,
Betwixt us, and our home.
5
The raging Winds our tacklings breaks
And rends both shrouds and sailes,
Our bruized vessell, sprinketh Leaks,
And, then, our courage failes.
One while, we plow
The Sands below;
Anon, aloft we rise,
As if we went,
With an intent,
To saile above the skies.
6
Opprest with dangers and with fear,
Then, loud we call on God:
Who doth vouchsafe our cries to hear,
And, calmes the raging Flood.
From death and wrack,
He plucks us back,
By his Almightie hand;
And (having lost
Our hope, almost)
VVe, safe are brought to land.
7
For thy protections Lord, therefore,
Still thankfull keep thou me;
As well, when I am safe on shore,
As where great perils be.
Let me not breake,
The vows I make,
VVhile times of danger last;
And, new begin
My Course of Sin,
Assoone as fears are past.
8
For, he who taketh no regard,
What, in distresse he vow'd;
Shall cry at length, and not be heard,
Nor finde compassion show'd.
When, wave nor storme,
Can us reform;
Nor Mercy, daily shown;
Gods wrath, prepares.
Far greater fears,
To bring presumption, down.