Now buried in an ocean tomb,
I saw that every hope was lost,
And sank, despairing, to my doom.
Erelong, upon a lonely rock,
My fragile, shipwrecked bark was cast,
Enfeebled by the billows’ shock,
And racked by every howling blast.
But One there is who guides the storm,—
To him I raised a murmuring cry:
“Why hast thou left me thus forlorn?