God of the seas! Thy thun­der­ing voice
Makes all the roar­ing waves re­joice,
And one soft word of Thy com­mand
Can sink them si­lent in the sand.

If but a Mos­es wave Thy rod,
The sea di­vides and owns its God;
The stor­my floods their mak­er knew,
And let His chos­en ar­mies through.

The sca­ly flocks amidst the sea,
To Thee, their Lord, a tri­bute pay;
The mean­est fish that swims the flood
Leaps up, and means a praise to God.

The larg­er mon­sters of the deep
On Thy com­mands at­tend­ance keep;
By Thy per­mis­sion sport and play,
And cleave along their foam­ing way.

If God His voice of tem­pest rears,
Leviathan lies still and fears;
Anon he lifts his nos­trils high,
And spouts the ocean to the sky.

How is Thy glo­ri­ous pow­er ad­ored
Amidst these wa­te­ry na­tions, Lord!
Yet the bold men that trace the seas,
Bold men, re­fuse their mak­er’s praise!

What scenes of mi­ra­cles they see,
And ne­ver tune a song to Thee!
While on the flood they safe­ly ride,
They curse the hand that smoothes the tide!

Anon they plunge in wa­te­ry graves,
And some drink death among the waves;
Yet the sur­viv­ing crew blas­pheme,
Nor own the God that res­cued them.

O for some sig­nal of Thine hand!
Shake all the seas, Lord, shake the land;
Great Judge! des­cend, lest men de­ny
That there’s a God that rules the sky.