Her dreadful commander may justly be bold, When all Adam's offspring lie slain in her hold; The noble, the peasant, the fearful, the brave; Death levels them all with the fool or the knave.

We shortly engag'd her with faith and with pray'r;
This had no effect, Death's a stranger to fear;
To force her retreat we could never prevail,
Against a decree all petitions must fail.

Nor can the petitions of faith be in vain,
Nor come to the suitor as empty again;
The answer was love, which afforded release;
With death we're at war, but with Jesus at peace.

We shortly engag'd her, and dreadful the fight;
Her force was not worse than her terrible sight;
She rak'd us most furiously, both fore and aft,
But some in the vessel escaped her shaft.

Some, wounded with terrors, and others with fright, Some pierced with sorrows, refused to fight; While some by temptations were wholly dismay'd, And some of eternity sorely afraid.

We knew that by Death we should surely be took, And yielded at last, but no pendant was struck; We did not engage with this monster for nought, The prize we had seen for the which we had fought.

Tho' fatal some darts that were hurled on board, Yet some that were wounded were strong in the Lord; These triumph'd in hope, altho' rank'd with the slain, The joy of the Lord counterbalanc'd their pain.

Now some of the crew, who at first were dismay'd,
View'd Death in a vision no more than a shade;
With mental felicity wished to die,

And said in veracity Jesus was nigh.

Poor old Master Doubtful began to complain,
And all our attempts to revive him were vain;
He wished he never had ventur'd on board,
Nor did he believe he belong'd to the Lord.

He laid in distress for a number of days,
But all were dispell'd by enlivening rays;
When these were remov'd he forbore not to sing,
And said he should die in the cause of his King.

Old Goodman Distrust he received a wound,
And suddenly fainted away in a swoon;

He knew that his heart was attach'd to the Lord,
If he were belov'd he should soon be restor’d.

He daily requested his life might be spar'd,
That hope might revive and his health be repair'd;
When patience was try'd he requested to go,
Nor had he a doubt but he'd conquer'd his foe.

Now poor little Feeble was found with the sick,
A man that was always allow'd to be weak;
The thoughts of departing so fill'd him with dread,
His spirits within him were sinking like lead.

But tidings were brought that he was not to go,
'Till wholly resign'd to submit to his foe;
And, when he perceiv'd that his strength was restor❜d,
He called for Death, and he wish'd him on board.

My old Master Peevish received a shot,
Design'd by Jehovah to fall to his lot;
He greatly rebell'd at the sharpness of pain;
We try'd to appease him, but labour'd in vain.

Tho' Death he oppos'd with a desperate force,
He found to his sorrow he daily grew worse;
But pains, still imbitter'd, so ended the strife,
That he wished for strangling rather than life.

Now good Master Careful received a hurt,
And griev'd he had lost all the views of the port;
The cares of the world had so often perplex'd,
He pray'd not to go till affections were fix'd.

Omnipotent Love brought him soon to relent,
At a heart so divided he'd often repent;
With his cheeks all bedewed with penitent tears,
He owned to grace he was deep in arrears.

His body was rack'd, and acute were the pains; His spirit rejoiced in seraphic strains;

He own'd at departing salvation was free; 'What sailor can doubt? "Tis sufficient for me!'

Master Purblind be next received a dart;
The wound it was fatal, 'twas sent to his beart;
And long did he mourn in a horrible shade,
For want of the light he was wholly dismay'd.

A sensible darkness had veiled his mind,
To wretched despair he was ever inclin'd;
His horror, he said, was a proof he was curs'd;
Nor would he believe he should end with the just.

The judge he assum'd, and arraigned his heart;
The sentence he pass'd, and he wish'd to depart;
His fate he predicted, and fixed his doom,
And begg'd of Jehovah to let him go home.

He daily expected that God would approve
Of these his proceedings, and bid him remove;
But judgment's committed to Jesus alone,
Nosentence shall stand that comes not from his throne.

We daily attempted to cherish his faith;

But all was rejected, he cleaved to death;

While those that would cheer him he sternly abus'd, And all consolation he daily refus'd.

He question'd the voyage, and state of the crew, And whether the men and the Captain were true; He bid us defiance, and longed to go,

To know whether we were deceivers or no.

The rest of the wounded they tremble with fear,
To find Master Purblind was sunk in despair;
And daily inquired if he was alive,

Nor could they be cheer'd till they saw him revive.

Now all on a sudden a light was convey'd,
That rescu'd his mind from the horrible shade;
He quitted the gloom, and was fill'd with amaze,
His visage reflecting divinity's rays.

In raptures he yielded to conquering Death,
And praised Free-grace with his expiring breath;
And begg'd each beholder this story to tell,
That Purblind the wretched was saved from hell.

It seems that Cold-Heart got a wound in the fray,
Which caus'd him to linger for many a day;
The ship Dissolution, her terrible hold

He could not endure while his heart was so cold.

A tempest from Sinai, that caus'd him to mourn,
The spirit of judgment began for to burn;
This forc'd him to try and examine his state;
The terrors of wrath made him tremble at fate.

By numbers on board his deep groanings were heard,
The ship Dissolution so shocking appear'd;
With waves of Despondency he was so toss'd,
That many conceived his senses were lost.

But Jesus appear'd in the vision of faith,
And wholly removed the terrors of death;
He took an affectionate leave of the crew,
And said he'd the city of Sion in view.

The good Master Tender refus'd to complain.
The joy that he felt counterbalanc'd his pain;
He said to the crew with expiring breath,
That the battle was won in the triumphs of faith.

Now Death had a charge with respect to the dead, To keep them asleep who had Christ for their head; Then Death shall be vanquish'd, for thus 'tis divin'd, His flag shall be struck, and his captives resign'd.

Altho' we had thousands that fell in the fight,
Yet numbers we had who recover'd their plight;
While Death was employed in stowing the hold
A tempest appear'd that was often foretold.