Thy Works of Glory, Mighty Lord

Thy works of glo­ry

migh­ty Lord

Thy won­ders in the deeps

The sons of cour­age shall re­cord

Who trade in float­ing ships.

At Thy com­mand the winds arise

And swell the tow­er­ing waves;

The men

as­ton­ished

mount the skies

And sink in gap­ing graves.

Again they climb the wa­te­ry hills

And plunge in deeps again;

Each like a tot­ter­ing drunk­ard reels

And finds his cour­age vain.

Frighted to hear the tem­pest roar

They pant with flut­ter­ing breath;

And hope­less of the dist­ant shore

Expect im­me­di­ate death.

Then to the Lord they raise their cries;

He hears the loud re­quest

And or­ders si­lence through the skies

And lays the floods to rest.

Sailors re­joice to lose their fears

And see the storm al­layed;

Now to their eyes the port ap­pears;

There let their vows be paid.

’Tis God that brings them safe to land;

Let stu­pid mor­tals know

That waves are un­der His co­mmand

And all the winds that blow.

O that the sons of men would praise

The good­ness of the Lord!

And those that see Thy won­drous ways

Thy won­drous love re­cord!