When the storms of life assail;

Beat relentlessly in gale,

Sending swale and swale and swale

Upon this feeble bark so frail,

 

And heaven's face with cloudy veil

Seems all ensconced within its pale;

Still, I will not strike the sail:

For, Thou, God, Seest me.

When my way seems all unclear,

And every day sees falling tear

For the loss of all so dear,

‘Til life lies heavy, pall and drear;

 

As time’s glad smile turns galling sneer,

And creeping day turns crawling year;

Still, by grace I will not fear:

For, Thou, God, Seest me.

When all seems lost without reprieve;

Beyond one's power to retrieve,

And friends would lovingly conceive

Some plan by which they may relieve,

 

And yet do nought but further grieve;

Yet all of this my Weaver weaves,

To make me more in Him believe: