C.M. Mark iv. 36-v. 19. 1 THE winds were howling o'er the deep, Each wave a watery hill, The Saviour wakened from his sleep, He spake, and all was still.
2 The madman in a tomb had made His mansion of despair; Woe to the traveller who strayed With heedless footsteps there!
3 He met that glance so thrilling sweet. He heard those accents mild, And, melting at Messiah's feet, Wept like a weaned child.
4 O madder than the raving man! O deafer than the sea! How long the time since Christ began To call in vain on me?
5 He called me when my thoughtless prime Was early ripe to ill; I passed from folly on to crime, And yet he called me still.
6 He called me in the time of dread When death was full in view, I trembled on my feverish bed, And rose to sin anew.
7 Yet could I hear him once again, As I have heard of old, Methinks he should not call in vain His wanderer to the fold.
8 O thou that every thought canst know, And answer every prayer; O give me sickness, want, or woe, But snatch me from despair!
9 My struggling will by grace control, Renew my broken vow! That blessed light breaks on my soul? O God! I hear thee now.
