If, on a quiet sea,
Toward heaven we calmly sail,
With grateful hearts, O God to thee,
We'll own the favoring gale.

But should the surges rise,
And rest delay to come,
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.

Teach us, in every state,
To make thy will our own;
And when the joys of sense depart,
To live by faith alone.