They that toil upon the deep,
And, in vessels light and frail,
O’er the mighty waters sweep,
With the billow and the gale—
Mark what wonders God performs,
When He speaks, and, unconfined,
Rush to battle all His storms,
In the chariots of the wind.
Up to heav’n their bark is whirled,
On the mountain of the wave,
Down as suddenly ’tis hurled
To th’ abysses of the grave.
To and fro they reel and roll,
As intoxicate with wine;
Terrors paralyze their soul,
Helm they quit, and hope resign.
Then unto the Lord they cry;
He inclines a gracious ear,
Sends deliverance from on high,
Rescues them from all their fear.
Calm and smooth the surge flow,
And where deadly lightning ran,
God’s own reconciling bow
Meets the ocean with a span.