Snippet
“There are houses in Gloucester where grooves have been worn
into the floorboards by women pacing past an upstairs window, looking out to
sea.” ― Sebastian Junger, The Perfect Storm: A True Story of Men Against the
Sea
Scripture
The voice of thy thunder was in the heaven: the lightnings
lightened the world: the earth trembled and shook. Thy way is in the sea, and
thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known. Thou leddest thy
people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron. Psalms 77:18-20 KJV
Song
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald By Gordon Lightfoot
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgI8bta-7aw
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
Then later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
When the wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too
'Twas the witch of November come stealin'
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin'
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck
Sayin' "Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya"
At seven PM a main hatchway caved in
He said, "Fellas, it's been good to know ya"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her
They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams
The islands and bays are for sportsmen
And farther below, Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early
Sentence Prayer
Almighty God, who hast given the sea Thy
decree, and whose dominion is over the fish
of the sea and whatsoever passeth through
the paths of the sea, grant Thy blessing, we
beseech Thee, to all who go down to the sea
in ships and do business in the great waters.
Be pleased, for Christ's sake, to bless Thy
servants who now pray to Thee. Preserve us
in times of storm ; guide us in all our courses
and in all our ventures, and prosper us in all
things. Bless our loved ones in their homes ;
keep them from fear for us, and grant unto
them the gift of perfect trust in Thee, their
God and Father in Jesus Christ. Amen
(http://www.archive.org/stream/prayersforsailor00churuoft/prayersforsailor00churuoft_djvu.txt)
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