Greenwich
Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine,
To see the wicked placed on high,
In pride and robes of honor shine.
But, oh, their end, their dreadful end,
Thy sanctuary taught me so,
On slippery rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.
Writer/s: STEPHEN WARBECK
