And tempests make him half a wreck,
And passions strong, with dangerous tack,
Retard his course,
Yet Christ the pilot all will check,
And quell their force.

So talk we as we thoughtful stray
Along the coast, where dashing spray
With rising mist o'erhangs the day,
And wets the shore,
And thick the vivid flashes play
And thunders roar!

Whilst passing o'er this giddy stage,
A pious and a learned sage
Resolved eternal war to wage
With passions fell;
How oft you view with holy rage
These imps of hell!

See! with what madd'ning force they sway
The human breast and lead astray,
Down the steep, broad, destructive way,
The giddy throng;
Till grisly death sweeps all away
The fiends among!

As when the mad tornado flies,
And sounding mingles earth and skies,
And wild confusion 'fore the eyes