By William Cowper

The billows swell, the winds are high,

Clouds overcast my wintry sky;

Out of the depths to thee I call,

My fears are great, my strength is small.

O Lord, the pilot’s part perform,

And guide and guard me thro’ the storm;

Defend me from each threatning ill,

Controll the waves, say, „Peace, be still.”

Amidst the roaring of the sea,

My soul still hangs her hope on thee,

Thy constant love, thy faithful care,

Is all that saves me from despair.

Dangers of ev’ry shape and name

Attend the follow’rs of the Lamb,

Who leave the world’s deceitful shore,

And leave it to return no more.

Tho’ tempest-toss’d and half a wreck,

My Saviour thro’ the floods I seek;

Let neither winds nor stormy main,

Force back my shatter’d bark again.

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