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Our help is in the name of the Lord who made Heaven and Earth.-Psalm cxxiv. v. 8.

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My trembling bark was all but lost,

Weary, wave-worn, tempest-toss'd :

Sin had snatch'd the giddy helm;

Death was near to overwhelm;

When the beams of heav'nly morn

Shone upon my state forlorn.

Christ, omnipotent to save,

Hush'd the wind, rebuk'd the wave,

Chang'd the dark and dreadful scene

To glorious orbs and skies serene,

Bless'd me with a pilot's hand,

And brought me sinking safe to land !

Gracious Pilot, never leave me,



mortal course I steer;

Lend! ( lend! thine hand to save me,

When the snares of sin are near.

When the storms of death surround me;

When I pass the depths below;

Let no doubts nor fears confound me;

Let me smile upon my foe.

Ye who on life's ocean ride,

Take the Gospel for your guide;

As the needle to the pole,

She is faithful to the soul.

She your sails shall gently fill,



bark from every ill,

Straight to Heav'n your course shall steer,

And cast eternal anchor there.

Ever watch and often pray,

Whilst it may be called to-day,



deviate from the way.

Fly! O fly! the siren-shore,



sink-to rise no more.


Ye nations that have never known

The glory of Jehovah's throne,

Why do your hearts conspire?

O Israel, to whom are given

The gracious promises of Heaven,

Whence this thy vain desire ?

What though the wicked shall advise

The princes of the earth to rise,

And all their armies bring?

What though the rulers all shall meet

In full assembly to defeat

The Lord's anointed King

And say, “Come, let our vigorous hands,

Asunder break his stern commands,

So hostile to our will:

Let our prophetic, sacred laws

Prevail o'er this Pretender's cause,

On Salem's western hill ?”

The Lord, whose hands the heav'ns adorn,

Shall treat their boasting threats with scorn,

And all their plots deride :

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