If, on a quiet sea,
Toward Heav’n we calmly sail,
With grateful hearts, O God, to Thee,
We’ll own the fav’ring gale;
With grateful hearts, O God, to Thee,
We’ll own the fav’ring gale.
But should the surges rise,
And rest delay to come,
Blest be the tempest, kind the storm,
Which drives us nearer home;
Blest be the tempest, kind the storm,
Which drives us nearer home.
Soon shall our doubts and fears
All yield to Thy control;
Thy tender mercies shall illume
The midnight of the soul;
Thy tender mercies shall illume
The midnight of the soul.
Teach us, in every state,
To make Thy will our own;
And when the joys of sense depart,
To live by faith alone;
And when the joys of sense depart,
To live by faith alone.
