By A Collection of Hymns

      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.