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P. M.

1. To Heaven I'm bound, with prosperous gales,
My bark by grace doth safely steer,
And going under gospel sails,
Celestial prospects bright appear;
To sound her ground my faith now springs,
And to her Author thus she sings,
"Thy will be done."

2. When to her berth my bark draws nigh,
And I have done with sails and tide,
"Strong is my cable," then I'll cry,
My Anchor's sure, I safely ride.
No more my soul need try her ground,
Safe at her moorings she is found,
And "all is well."