Begone, unbelief, my Savior is near,
And for my relief will surely appear;
By pray’r let me wrestle, and he will perform,
With Christ in the vessel, I smile at the storm.
How bitter the cup, no heart can conceive,
Which he drunk quite up, that sinners might live!
His way was much rougher, and darker than mine;
Did Jesus thus suffer, and shall I repine?
His love in time past forbids me to think,
He’ll leave me at last, in trouble to sink;
Each sweet Ebeneezer I have in review,
Confirms his good pleasure to bring me quite thro’.