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Corruption, we told them, had fought us at sea; We try'd if Perfection would cause her to flee; In spite of Perfection, they ventur❜d on board, And are in confinement, as chain'd by the Lord.

There are but two ships that were built by the Lord,
If you can believe what the scriptures record;
The vessel of Mercy we know to be safe,
The other is called the vessel of Wrath.

All gallies at first were invented by knaves,
And rowing's intended for none but for slaves;
The sailors of Tarshish they plied the oar,
But God was against them, and drove them from shore.

The arm of the creature will poorly perform,
With oars or with paddles, when toss'd in a storm ;
The sailors from Joppa had sunk in the deep,
If stubborn Free-will had remain'd in the ship.

To phænomena new we never give heed,
And wandering stars they can only mislead;
The sweet Milky Way is direct in the course,
The Ram and the Lion's sufficient for us.

We ventur'd to sea with our anchors and sails,
And hope to arrive under prosperous gales;
Our sails they will last, whether furled or bent,
Nor are we afraid that the canvass will rent.

Vanharmin and Baxter, we shun them of course
For self-contradictions; for what can be worse?
'Tis proved, by all the directions they urge,
Their whole navigation was penn'd in a surge.

They got our reply, and began to retort;

Our ship and her crew were the subjects of sport; Free Grace is her name, all elect are the crew. That ship will deceive them, if Johnny be true!

They call her Free Grace, and themselves the elect, And think they're eternally fix'd on the deck; What a scandalous tale those same villains have told, With all their corruption confin'd in the hold!

Their ship is so small, she contains but a few;
But we are resolv'd to give Jesus his due;
Our gallies are open, and all are receiv'd,
But these for election; and they are deceiv'd.

When Free-will commands no corruptions appear,
And fleshly perfection destroys them with fear;
Examine the gallies, pray come, and behold
If there's a corruption confin'd in the hold.'

We said we believ'd their report to be true,
They ne'er fought Corruption, nor captur'd her crew;
Nor can we confute all the story you told,
Corruption commands you, yourselves are in hold.

Free-will, if sufficient, why call ye for aid?
And if ye are perfect, why are ye afraid?
If rowing will serve you, why whirl ye about?
And, if you're all-mighty, why don't you come out?

In spite of Free-will, they are still in the bay,
And certain we are they are out of the way;
No wonder that they with a whirlpool are twirl'd,
Those gallies must sink that are mann'd by the world.

At last they perceiv'd we attempted to go,
And fired a pop-gun to make us come to.
No damage was done to the men on the deck;
For want of saltpetre their powder was weak.

We shortly discern'd their iniquitous scheme,
And sailed away with the wind on the beam;
Those rebels that dare with election to sport
Are bound for Destruction, and sure of their port.

The Pharisee merchant had been to recruit;
She pass'd us, and gave us a taunting salute;
Their vessel was stow'd, they were now steering home,
Left heaven astern, and were sailing for Rome.

Now glories immortal began for to shine,
As if we had sailed just under the line;
The heavens appeared remarkably clear,
And all things predicted that glory was near.

Some climbed aloft, and look'd out for the land,
While others their loud acclamation began;
They cry'd,The fair havens are full in our view.'
We look'd thro' the glass, and the tidings were true.

Immortal felicity darted its rays,

Which made all the canopy seem in a blaze;
These visions they caused fresh light to distil,
The city of Zion appear'd on the hill.

The tree of the Living he sent us his leaves,
Which ever have healed the soul that believes.
He bowed his branches, and yielded his fruit,
To all that had formerly made him their suit.

The Fountain of Light he dispersed his beams,
As if all the city were burning in flames;
The river of pleasure its tide was so high,
That millions of spirits were bathing in joy.

The haven of rest now appear'd in a vale,
From an easy descent at the foot of the hill.
These raptures of joy they were balanc'd with fear,
For Death must engage us before we go there.

But we blessed the Lord, who directed the course,
By whom we were kept both from fraud and from force;
Who ne'er will forsake us till all are at rest,
For all that sail with him are finally bless'd.

This glorious city was suddenly veil❜d,
When this was perceived our courage then fail'd;
This strange alteration put numbers in fright,
Which was but a cordial to prompt us to fight.

We sailed in darkness for several days,
The glorious sun had eclipsed his rays;

Some trembled to think they had yet to engage,
When many were feeble and drooping with age.

We saw at a distance a large man of war,

Which sail'd from the harbour that we were bound for;
Her colours were gloomy, her canvass was dark,
And she sail'd as swift as a letter of marque.

Her daring broad pendant was flying at top,
Near six thousand years have her colours been up;
There ne'er were but two but acknowledg'd her rag,
Elijah and Enoch ne'er struck to her flag.

She seem'd to approach in a boisterous gale,
A wind from the harbour had filled her sail;
Her decks and her hold, they all seem'd to be stor❜d,
As if she had nought but destruction on board.

Her crew it consisted of terrors and fears,
Of shadows and phantoms, distresses and snares;
Of frights, of dejections, of tremblings and dread,
And every monster ally'd to the dead.

Of destruction, of ending, of stopping all breath,
Of judgment, of sentence, with terrible strife,
Of teazing, of wrecking, of turbulent wrath,
And every monster that brings us to death.

When first she appear'd we had numbers dismay'd;
To the able in faith she appear'd but a shade.
We took it for granted each sailor must die,
Nor need I assign any reason for why.

This ship must be fought with expiring breath, Dissolution's her name; she's commanded by Death; Suppose she should conquer, she can't take our right; The prize we'll obtain, tho' we die in the fight.

Tho' Death we are certain will ne'er strike to us; She's a sentence from God, and preceded his curse; Yet Grace she will never be captur'd by Death; So, as neither will yield, we must forfeit our breath,

This monster in time shall be brought to submit,
And fall as a captive at Jesus's feet;
Yea, Death and Destruction are doomed to die,
That Jesus the Saviour may triumph on high.

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