"Sailor's Hymn." by Jane Taylor (1783-1824)
OF old did Jesus condescend
To calm the stormy sea?
Yes, he was then the Sailor's friend:
And such he still would be.
He does but wait to hear us crave,
As they besought him then–
"Master, we perish! come and save,
For we are dying men!"
Not to sustain our mortal breath,
We raise the earnest cry;–
Lord, save our precious souls from death,
And make us fit to die.
Then blow ye winds! ye surges roar!
'T will not our souls appal;
Though waves and billows pass us o'er,
And deep to deep should call.
But O! without that blessed hope,
Without a Saviour near,
What desperate courage bears us up!
What madness not to fear!
Jesus, on thee our hopes we cast,
No more thy wrath defy;
This is the anchor, sure and fast,
On which we may rely.
Soon shall the sea give up its dead,
And should our graves be there,
With joy we'll quit our watery bed,
To meet Him in the air.