O God, Who Metest in Thy Hand

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.