Never weather-beaten sail

Texten

1. Vers 1

   Never weather beaten sail more willing bent to shore, Than my weary sprite now longs to fly out of my trou bled breast. O come quickly, O come quickly, O come quickly, sweet est Lord, and take my soul to rest. Ev er bloom ing are the joys of Heav'n's high Pa ra dise: Glory there the sun out shines, whose beams the blessed on ly see. O come quickly, O come quickly, O come quickly, glor ious Lord, and raise my sprite to Thee.

2. Vers 2

   Ne ver tired pil grim's limbs affec ted slum ber more, Cold age deafs not there our ears, nor va pour dims our eyes;

Fri att sjunga: Thomas Campion dog 1620.