Clashing in fury as they hurry by;
They mingle fiercely, and in rude commotion,
As if a hurricane swept o'er the sky.
Now, let the soul rely on her devotion,
Now, let the prayer to Him be lifted high,
Who stills the storm, and calms the mighty wave,
"And strong to smite, is also strong to save."
See! yon poor wretch dashed from the vessel's prow—
He catches at the spar that hurries past,
'Tis vain! the waves are mightier still—and now,