Campion: Never Weather Beaten Sail

Never were the beaten sail

More willing bent to shore

Never tired pilgrim's limbs

Affected slumber more

Than my weary sprite now longs to fly

Out of my troubled breast

O come quickly, O come quickly, O come quickly, sweetest Lord

And take my soul to rest

Than my weary sprite now longs to fly

Out of my troubled breast

O come quickly, O come quickly, O come quickly, sweetest Lord

And take my soul to rest

Ever blooming are the joys

Of heaven's high paradise

Cold age deafs not there our ears

Nor labour dims our eyes

Glory there the sun outshines

Whose beams the blessed only see

O come quickly, O come quickly, O come quickly, glorious Lord

And raise my sprite to thee

Glory there the sun outshines

Whose beams the blessed only see

O come quickly, O come quickly, O come quickly, glorious Lord

And raise my sprite to thee