“Jesus, at thy command, I launch into the deep, and leave my native land, where sin lulls all asleep; For thee I fein would all resign, And sail to heav’n with thee and thine.
What though the seas are broad, what though the waves are strong, what though tempestuous winds distress me all along; Yet what are seas or stormy wind, Compared to Christ the sinner’s friend!
Christ is my Pilot wise, my compass is his word; My soul each storm defies while I have such a Lord; I trust his faithfulness and pow’r, to save me in the trying hour.
Though rocks and quicksand’s deep, through all my passage lie, Yet Christ shall safely keep, and guide me with his eye. How can I sink with such a prop, As bears the world and all things up?
By faith I see the land, The Haven of endless rest; My soul, thy wings expand, and fly to Jesu’s breast. O may I reach the heavenly shore, were winds and seas distress no more!
Whene’er becalm’d I lie, and all my storms subside, then to my succour fly, and keep me near thy side; For more the treach’rous calm I dread, than tempests bursting o’er my head.
Come, heav’nly wind, and blow, A prosp’rous gale of grace, to waft from all below, to heav’n my destin’d place; Then in full sail my port I’ll find, And leave the world and sin behind.”
John Bunyan 1678