Showing posts with label Thomas Campion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas Campion. Show all posts

May 24, 2014

Poem: 'O Come Quickly!' (Never Weather-Beaten Sail)


'O Come Quickly!' (Never Weather-Beaten Sail) is by the English composer, poet, and physician: Thomas Campion (1567-1620). Writer of both the words and music, Campion published the song in his Two Bookes of Ayres (1613?). It is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Performed by Stile Antico

NEVER WEATHER-BEATEN SAIL by Thomas Campion, 1613 (Public Domain)

Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.
Never tired 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.
Ever blooming are the joys of Heaven's high Paradise.
Cold age deafs not there our ears nor vapour dims our eyes:
Glory there the sun outshines whose beams the blessed only see:
O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to thee!

April 28, 2014

Poem: De Profundis (Out of My Soul's Depths)

De Profundis by Horatio Walker - Courtesy of Wikipedia

De Profundis is by the English composer, poet, and physician: Thomas Campion (1567-1620). It is a paraphrase of Psalm 130 (129) and takes it's Latin title from the opening line of the Vulgate translation of that same penitential psalm. De Profundis was first published in Campion's Two Bookes of Ayres (1613?). It is included in the Religious Poetry Appendix for Lent and Easter of the Divine Office (1974).

DE PROFUNDIS by Thomas Campion, 1613? (Public Domain)

Out of my soul's depths to thee my cries have sounded;
Let thine ears my plaints receive, on just fear grounded.
Lord, should'st thou weigh our faults, who' not confounded?

But with grace thou censur'st thine when they have erred,
Therefore shall thy blessed name be loved and feared.
E'en to thy throne my thoughts and eyes are reared.

Thee alone my hopes attend, on thee relying;
In thy sacred word I'll trust, to thee fast flying,
Long ere the watch shall break, the morn decrying.

In the mercies of our God who live securéd,
May of full redemption rest in him assuréd,
Their sin-sick souls by him shall be recuréd.