O, Zion, afflicted with wave upon wave,
Whom no man can comfort, whom no man can save;
With darkness surrounded, by terrors dismay’d,
In toiling and rowing thy strength is decay’d.
Loud roaring, the billows now nigh overwhelm,
But skillful’s the pilot who sits at the helm;
His wisdom conducts thee, his pow’r thee defends,
In safety and quiet thy warfare he ends.
O fearful! O faithless! in mercy he cries;
My promise, my truth, are they light in thine eyes?
Still, still I am with thee, my promise shall stand;
Thro’ tempest and tossing I’ll bring thee to land.