Peace, be still! the wild waves raging,
Loudly raging, heard the Lord,
And, fierce war no longer waging,
Sank obedient to His word.
Vanish’d every sign of terror,
Instant ceased the tempest wild,
Shone the lake like polish’d mirror,
Slept as sleeps the wearied child.
Mighty Jesus! Lord of glory!
Who can wildest storms control,
Why does not Thy lovely story
Still the tempest of the soul?
Thou canst smooth the dying pillow,
Give the troubled conscience peace,
Still the raging of the billow,
Bid the angry passions cease.
Oh Thy love! all thought confounding,
Who its wonders e’er can know?
From it, love and peace abounding,
Living streams incessant flow.
Yet man’s will, like angry ocean,
Still is raging furiously;
Who can hush the dread commotion?
Prince of Peace, ‘tis only Thee.
‘Tis in vain we preach or reason,
Warn, entreat, or deeply mourn
Man, so stubborn in his treason,
‘Gainst Thee, Lord, treats us with scorn,
But the time is surely nearing,
When, the church away being ta’en,
Thou in glory bright appearing
Shalt assume Thy power and reign.
Then, Ο Lord, while heaven adores Thee,
Thou wilt heaven’s desire fulfill,
And from off Thy throne of glory,
Speak, and lo the earth is still!
H. M.