For England when with favoring gale

For England when with favoring gale Our gallant ship up channel steered, And, scudding under easy sail, The high blue western land appeared; To heave the lead the seaman spring, And to the pilot cheerly sung, " By the deep -- nine! " And bearing up to gain the port, Some well-known object kept in view, -- An abbey-tower, a harbor-fort, Or beacon to the vessel true; While oft the lead the seaman flung, And to the pilot cheerly sung, " By the mark -- seven! " And as the much-loved shore we near, With transport we behold the roof Where dwelt a friend or partner dear, Of faith and love a matchless proof. The lead once more the seaman flung, And to the watchful pilot sung, " Quarter less -- five! " Now to her berth, the ship draws nigh: We shorten sail, -- she feels the tide, -- "Stand clear the cable" is the cry, -- The anchor's gone; we safely ride. The watch is set, and through the night We hear the seamen with delight Proclaim, -- " All's well! "