Fierce was the wild billow; dark was the night;
Oars labored heavily; foam glimmered white;
Mariners trembled; peril was nigh;
Then said the God of might, “Peace, it is I!”
Ridge of the mountain wave, lower thy crest!
Wail of Euroclydon, be thou at rest!
Peril can none be, sorrow must fly,
Where saith the Light of light, “Peace, it is I!”
Jesus, Deliverer! come thou to me! Soothe
Thou my voyaging over life’s sea!
Then, when the storm of death roars sweeping by,
Whisper, Ο Truth of truth! “Peace, it is I!”