| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XI. O Come Quickly
‘Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore’ | | By Thomas Campion (1567–1620) |
| | | NEVER weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore, | |
| Never tirèd pilgrim’s limbs affected slumber more, | |
| Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast. | |
| O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest. | |
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| Ever-blooming are the joys of Heaven’s high paradise, | 5 |
| Cold age deafs not there our ears, nor vapour dims our eyes: | |
| Glory there the Sun outshines, whose beams the blessèd only see; | |
| O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to Thee. | | | | |
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