A lit­tle ship was on the sea,
It was a pret­ty sight;
It sailed along so plea­sant­ly,
And all was calm and bright.

When lo! a storm be­gan to rise,
The wind grew loud and strong;
It blew the clouds across the skies,
It blew the waves along.

And all, but One, were sore afraid
Of sink­ing in the deep;
His head was on a pil­low laid,
And He was fast asleep.

Master, we per­ish: Mas­ter, save!
They cried: their Mas­ter heard;
He rose, re­buked the wind and wave,
And stilled them with a word.

He to the storm says, Peace, be still!
The rag­ing bil­lows cease;
The migh­ty winds ob­ey His will,
And all are hushed to peace.

Oh, well we know it was the Lord,
Our Sav­ior and our friend;
Whose care of those who trust His word
Will nev­er, nev­er end.

A no­ble ship, our coun­try dear,
Has wea­thered ma­ny a gale—
Yet now a storm beats so sev­ere
That ma­ny stout hearts quail.

But One who rides ab­ove the storm
Can save us from all ill;
We on­ly wait to hear His voice
Commanding, Peace, be still!

O Je­sus, Mas­ter! hear, we pray
Remove the chast­en­ing rod;
Let not our foes ex­ult­ing say,
There is no help in God.

From threat­en­ing storms pre­serve our land,
Rebuke the wind and waves;
And let us, one unit­ed band,
Rejoice in God, who saves.