This ship does journey the mighty seas.
By Faith these sail’s will ever rise.
Tattered and worn, yet anchored in thee;
By Grace til the sea marry the skies.
Transparent to the crashing waves nigh;
Homeward bound for the Son hath lit the way.
Praises we do sing unto the blue bowled skies;
Til the wretched night turns to solemn day.
A Lighthouse in the distance, nearer and nearer still,
it’s rays soar brightly cross the skies.
The storm and the tempest sweep o’er the mill;
Pray not by strength or might but by your will.
This ship it Graces the dancing waves;
Crashing in flight, seasons pass by.
Rising and Kneeling they seemingly praise,
the creator of the birds in the sky.
The seas they calm at the command of the wind.
The glowing embers of the horizon nearer more.
The season has come to pass, oh mighty oars;
I bid you no more, oh glorious shore.
Captain of the vessel rises to say,
“Well done, thou good and faithful servant, to this day;
Thou has been faithful all the while,
I now give thee rule o’er many things.”
May all ye weary and laden receive rest.
Enter thou into the joy of the Lord.
The time has come, to reap your reward.
I bid you no more, oh Glorious Shore.
I bid you no more.
© Amanda Batten 2009