A storm comes up the winds they blow the sea becomes a snare,
Will it stand, or falter fast upon this raging tide,
It's steadied now on quieted seas, The makers hands the guide.
My ship it sails on tides of pain of deep and dark despair,
Yet when I feel like falling low his arms I know are there,
He picks me up, he holds me close, he'll never let me go,
I know the master of the storm, He loves me this I know,
As a ship upon the oceans sail it's tossed both here and there,
I worry not about my life because I'm in his care.