Psalm .005: A Chantey. For pirates and other rapscallions. To be sung on the instruments of whimsy & mirth.
Forge our structure Captain.
Stablish our go’ins and our faith.
You are at the helm, blessed Helmsman,
Drive on, press on, drive on ’til the dawn.
This mounting horizon,
This aurora borealis of color and concept.
You have crested in my heart
And, yea, I AM COME ALIVE!
O’ righted ship, O’ straightened rig,
Give good sail ’til morning be new…
At Your bellowed behest,
She runs right, she runs true.
And hardy be these mates and scalawags,
What call themselves the brethren.
No greater joy to now sing
This joyful, restless chantey of the coming Wave
With these here e’er-do-wells!
O’ the washing of these wondrous waves,
Of crystalline sea foam,
Upon pillowed billows…
She gives, she sways, Sweet Lord,
She gives, she sways for Thee.
And I ride,
I sail forth at the lull
Even in the toss,
This crusading crew has its sea legs!
Not to be taken off our feet!
Where she goes, we go assailin’!
For she gives, she sways
For Thee, my Helmsman,
She gives, she sways…
Straightway to the shores of Your north country.