Barbara Bonney Follow

Never Weather-Beaten Saile
(Thomas Campion)

Never weather-beaten saile, more willing bent to shore
Never weary pilgrims' limbs affected slumber more,
Than my weary sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled brest;
Oh, come quickly, Oh, come quickly, Oh, come quickly, Sweetest Lord,
And lay my soule to rest;
Oh, come quickly, Oh, come quickly, Oh, come quickly, Sweetest Lord,
And lay my soule to rest.

Ever blooming are the joyes, of heav'n's high paradise;
Cold age deafes not there our ears, nor vapour dims our eyes;
Glory there the sun outshines, whose beams the blessed only see;
Oh, come quickly, Oh, come quickly, Oh, come quickly, Sweetest Lord,
And raise my sprite to thee;
Oh, come quickly, Oh, come quickly, Oh, come quickly, Sweetest Lord,
And raise my sprite to thee.