When through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming,

When o’er the dark wave the red lightning is gleaming,

Nor hope lends a ray, the poor seaman to cherish,

We fly to our Maker—Save, Lord, or we perish!

2 O Jesus, once rocked on the breast of the billow,

Aroused by the shriek of despair from thy pillow,

Now seated in glory, the mariner cherish,

Who cries, in his anguish—Save, Lord, or we perish!

3 And, O, when the whirlwind of passion is raging,

When sin in our hearts its sad warfare is waging,

Then send down thy grace, thy redeeméd to cherish;

Rebuke the destroyer—Save, Lord, or we perish!