Bring on the Pilot, cast off the lines,
wait for the flooding tide.
Haul up the anchor, lay off the shore,
open the topsails wide.
Make fast the hatches, cargo secure,
close up the wind to lea;
Slide from the harbour, let out the log.
make for the open sea.
Hold tight the rigging, stand by the bridge,
ride on the surging foam,
until the vessel, voyage completed,
turns again, bound for home.
I am the vessel, mine is that ship,
buffeting through Life's gales.
Hope is the steerage, Faith is the hull,
charity firms my sails.
When on the shoreline, God checks my log,
looks at my manifest;
Pray that His Mercy grants me safe harbour,
laying my sails to rest.
The melody flows with a swell surging tide and salts crusted lips, as a lone gull decries, and each is a sailor and the sea is wide, your verse provides succour where each may abide. Thank you for this fine poem.
With great visual details and such a beautiful prayer with lovely flow and rhythm, I loved this superb write! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When was this first published?