"Save, Lord! We Perish!" (1877)
by George Frederick Root

1.
What words, almost, despairing,
Sweep o'er the foaming lake--
Save, Lord! we perish!
From lips of terror break.

When, at a word, the waves are still,
And peace and joy their bosoms fill.

2.
Oh, tempest tossed disciples,
Upon the wild sea there!
Save, Lord! we perish!
Oh, quickly answered prayer!

The mighty waves obey His will,
He utters only "Peace, be still."

3.
So on and on forever,
Amid the tempest's rage--
Save, Lord! we perish!
Will His great power engage;

Tho' wild the storm of passions will,
It yields when He says "Peace, be still."