O’er a trackless sea I’m sailing,
Often tempest tossed,
With no star of hope to guide me while I stray;
But I find I have a friend,
Who will guide me to the end,
For my Savior safely pilots all the way.
I shall rest in safety o’er the harbor bar,
And my pilot’s blessèd face I’ll see;
All the storms of life shall then be safely past,
Oh, what glory that will be!
There are rocks of doubt before me,
As I onward go,
And the billows oft my fragile bark assail;
But no danger will I fear,
Tho’ they may be hidden near,
For my pilot at the helm can never fail.
Oft the tempest, wildly beating,
Fills my heart with fear,
As I seek to gain the harbor bright and fair;
But there comes to me sweet peace,
All my doubt and fear shall cease,
For I know my pilot guides me safely there.
Storms may gather darkly round me,
And the tempest rage,
And the beacon lights along the shore be dim;
Yet my heart will not dismay,
I will wait the dawning day,
While my pilot’s at the helm I’ll trust in Him.