O God, Who metest in Thine hand
The waters of the mighty sea,
And barrest ocean with the sand
By Thy perpetual decree:

What time the floods lift up their voice
And break in anger on the shore,
When deep to deep calls with the noise
Of waterspouts and billows� roar;

When they who to the sea go down,
And in the waters ply their toil,
Are lifted on the surge�s crown,
And plunged where seething eddies boil;

Rule then, O Lord, the ocean�s wrath,
And bind the tempest with Thy will;
Tread, as of old, the water�s path
And speak Thy bidding, �Peace, be still.�

So with Thy mercies ever new
Thy servants set from peril free,
And bring them, Pilot wise and true,
Within the port where they would be.