Hymns

The billows swell the winds are high,

by William Cowper·1779·Meter 8.8.8.8 (LM)

1

The billows swell the winds are high,
Clouds overcast my wintry sky;
Out of the depths to thee I call,
My fears are great, my strength is small.

2

O Lord, the pilot's part perform,
And guide and guard me through the storm;
Defend me from each threat'ning ill,
Control the waves, say, "Peace, be still!"

3

Amidst the roaring of the sea,
My soul still hangs her hope on thee;
Thy constant love, thy faithful care,
Is all that saves me from despair.

4

Dangers of every shape and name
Attend the follow'rs of the Lamb,
Who leave the world's deceitful shore,
And leave it to return no more.

5

Though tempest-tossed and half a wreck,
My Savior through the floods I seek;
Let neither winds nor stormy main,
Force back my shattered bark again.

Conflict