If, on a quiet sea, Toward Heav’n we calmly sail, With grateful hearts, O God, to Thee, We’ll own the fav’ring gale; With grateful hearts, O God, to Thee, We’ll own the fav’ring gale.
But should the surges rise, And rest delay to come, Blest be the tempest, kind the storm, Which drives us nearer home; Blest be the tempest, kind the storm, Which drives us nearer home.
Soon shall our doubts and fears All yield to Thy control; Thy tender mercies shall illume The midnight of the soul; Thy tender mercies shall illume The midnight of the soul.
Teach us, in every state, To make Thy will our own; And when the joys of sense depart, To live by faith alone; And when the joys of sense depart, To live by faith alone.
Source:
The Cyber Hymnal (http://www.hymntime.com/tch/htm/i/f/a/ifaquiet.htm)
