Here you will find the Poem Fifth Sunday After Trinity of poet John Keble
"The livelong night we've toiled in vain, But at Thy gracious word I will let down the net again:- Do Thou Thy will, O Lord!" So spake the weary fisher, spent With bootless darkling toil, Yet on his Master's bidding bent For love and not for spoil. So day by day and week by week, In sad and weary thought, They muse, whom God hath set to seek The souls His Christ hath bought. For not upon a tranquil lake Our pleasant task we ply, Where all along our glistening wake The softest moonbeams lie; Where rippling wave and dashing oar Our midnight chant attend, Or whispering palm-leaves from the shore With midnight silence blend. Sweet thoughts of peace, ye may not last: Too soon some ruder sound Calls us from where ye soar so fast Back to our earthly round. For wildest storms our ocean sweep:- No anchor but the Cross Might hold: and oft the thankless deep Turns all our toil to loss. Full many a dreary anxious hour We watch our nets alone In drenching spray, and driving shower, And hear the night-bird's moan: At morn we look, and nought is there; Sad dawn of cheerless day! Who then from pining and despair The sickening heart can stay? There is a stay--and we are strong; Our Master is at hand, To cheer our solitary song, And guide us to the strand. In His own time; but yet a while Our bark at sea must ride; Cast after cast, by force or guile All waters must be tried: By blameless guile or gentle force, As when He deigned to teach (The lode-star of our Christian course) Upon this sacred beach. Should e'er thy wonder-working grace Triumph by our weak arm, Let not our sinful fancy trace Aught human in the charm: To our own nets ne'er bow we down, Lest on the eternal shore The angels, while oar draught they own, Reject us evermore: Or, if for our unworthiness Toil, prayer, and watching fail, In disappointment Thou canst bless, So love at heart prevail.