Navis

So, make your mark and sign on to the Ship
Of God. Raise up the masts and arms of our
Salvation. Set the Sails of Faith, which whip
And fill with ceaseless winds of righteous power.

Just look at all this perfect ship commands:
Devoted rudder, stalwart keel; the most
Reliable charts ever drafted. Hands
On deck, all drawn from Heaven's loyal Host.

The Moral Compass shows the way most good.
The lines and riggings in angelic grip
Are braced. And on those decks, apostles stood.
This Navis is the vessel of our worship.

Atop all three crossed masts, like crow's nests, sits
A Crown of Thorns. A wing'd archangel with
A trumpet is the figurehead, and its
Tone cuts the Fog of Doubt, which blinds Christ's Kith.

The crimson Cross of Faith embroidered on
Each sail emblazons far for all whose eyes
Are open. Hearts of Charity upon
Each pennant fly, and mark where Comfort lies.

The Anchor forged of Hope, protects the faithful
Held lovingly within the holds. When waves
Of Anguish drench, and storms of all that's hateful
Rain down the ship, the anchor fast remains.

Can you not see the craft inherent in
This craft? The Wright hath wrought almighty timbers,
Enjoined by Nails of Sacrifice. Within
Are boundless pews to seat the Church's members.

When slave ships on the wide horizon loom
And threaten, canons oversee their cannons,
Stand fast, and broadside to their chosen doom
The wanton tars who crew satanic squadrons.

The Twelve who first cast off to write and steer
A course for all the world, begat a brethren
To guide us. Hear today's apostles. Hear
Our canons roar their words. Listen! Listen!

Now, ply the current of His Will, and trust
The Pilot at your helm. He'll guide you by
The truest Star in Heaven; shining just
As bright as when it lit the shepherds' sky.

Allow those sails to fill full with the breath
Of Holy Word, and carry you toward
Your port of call. Call out the risen death,
And share the Grace with all who come onboard.

Jeffrey Fiske
Epiphany, anno domini mcmxcvii
© 1997