Her beckets were laden with cordage in store;
For the want of supplies we fhall not run afhore.
Her pennant is glory, which always is up,
And joy is her spindle; affurance her poop.
Sound heart is her cannon, lafh'd fast by a hitch;
True zeal is her powder, and fervour her match.
The laws of Jehovah her forcible shot,
Which do execution if cold or if hot.
'Twas by Jacob's ladder at first I came in ;
Nor was I a failor till pardon'd for fin.
I loft all my clothing, from head to my foot;
And, in order for failing, I got a new fuit.
My clothing is rich, and by faith 'twas put on;
Throughout it was woven by Jefus the fon;
A garment to cover, and gay to behold,
Intended for shelter, embroider'd with gold.
This noble apparel it always comes free,
Completed by Wisdom, and given to me;
Bestow'd as her favour both free and complete,
And it coft her much labour to make it so neat.
This never wears out, tho' 'tis always in ufe;
It covers throughout, and it comes to my fhoes.
Oh! bleffed be Wisdom, her name I adore;
Her garments are handfome, they cover the poor.
I came to the light, and I faw I was clean,
My linen was white, and my hammock was green.
Thus fitted by Grace with apparel to wear,
Bedeck'd with a chain, and a ring in my ear.
I viewed the failors, and watch'd their employ,
And liften'd to hear them expreffing their joy.
Each bleffed the Captain that took them on board,
And praised the wine that the Cape did afford.
But fome legal failors I faw labour'd hard,
And cavill'd at others as idle on board.
Let breaming be done, and for failing prepare,
For furely the fignal will shortly appear.
Jury-mafts they were order'd by some to be made,
And others were flaving at caulking her fide;
Thefe rattled her shrouds, and then cry'd, "They are faft,'
While others got timber for fishing her mast.
These all were determin'd to work for their hire,
In fetching of water, and fuel for fire;
They cavill'd at others till quite out of breath,
And told them they'd furely make shipwreck of faith.
Have you nothing to do but be drinking of grog?
Your joy will be balanc'd by heaving the log;
You'll foon get the flux, if you tipple fo faft,
Or fall overboard, and be drowned at last.
Those famous for jibbing were fhifting a boom, Some mending old rigging with new from the loom; And others contriving for fixing her vane;
Some knotting and splicing ;-all labour in vain!
Provisions were plenty, and plenty of flip;
With liberty granted to all in the ship.
Profufe was the Captain.-Our joy to enhance,
He paid us the bounty, with two months advance.
This fet all the failors to drinking of wine;
Nor could they persuade them to handle a line.
No duty was done, not a fail could be bent,
Till their liquor was gone, and their bounty was spent.
Some mention'd their happiness, fome their complaints;
And all were loft finners, now enter'd for faints.
My foul was delighted to hear of their voyage,
But more of the prizes they took at the fiege.
I heard their engagements related by them;
And, as to their Captain, they boafted of him. I
So bold a commander, such watch does he keep; ~"!
On board in a storm, ne'er but once known to fleep.
I ftood all attention to hear them relate,
And admired the union each had with his mate.
My foul was inflam'd when I heard them rejoice;
I no longer refrain'd, but I lift up my voice:
O blefs'd be the Builder that firft built the ship,
For all muft confefs her the best of the fleet.
No vessel befide her is fit for the voyage,
Nor could be contrived to weather a fiege.
And bleffed be Wifdom, by whom he was plann'd, And fitted complete by her excellent hand';
So fteady in failing, fhe never can rake,
Nor will the want bailing for fpringing a leak.
From time everlasting she stood on her block;
This world was her ocean, but never her dock;
She was launched from heaven for cruizing the main ;
When mann'd with the chofen, she'll harbour again.
Thrice bleffed be Love, that launch'd her at first ; That rigg'd her and stor'd her, on purpose for us. Sweet Mercy enfur'd her.-Take comfort from hence, If captur'd by Juftice, fhe's ranfom'd from thence.
When time was created, full, fail fhe went out,
And when time's no more fhe'll arrive at her port,
When there was no failor, no world, nor a sea;
She was fitted for failing, and fitted for me.
Then bleffed be Grace for her excellent store.
What dainty provifions are thefe for the poor!
Here's always a plenty, no failor can want,
No fcanty allowance.-What mortal can faint?
And bleffed be Judgment, who plank'd her fo ftrong,
And fixed her maft that it cannot be fprung;
Her rigging's divine, and divine is her hull.-
I wish that this veffel was mann'd to the full.
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