Afar and alone! and my heart grew faint,
For I feared that the storm must o'erwhelm,
When over my own fell the clasp of a hand,
And, "Fear not—there is help at the helm,"
For I feared that the storm must o'erwhelm,
When over my own fell the clasp of a hand,
And, "Fear not—there is help at the helm,"
Breathed into the tumult and rage of the storm,
With such an all-conquering rest,
That it seemed as a portion of heaven's own peace,
Nestled warm in my quiet breast.
With such an all-conquering rest,
That it seemed as a portion of heaven's own peace,
Nestled warm in my quiet breast.
Upheld and sustained, till the tempest was past,
I still clung to the help-giving hand,
And prayed, whether sunshine or cloud marked my way,
It would guide till my boat reached the land.
I still clung to the help-giving hand,
And prayed, whether sunshine or cloud marked my way,
It would guide till my boat reached the land.
Dear Hand on the helm! though I blindly forget,
In an hour of doubt and distress,
When Faith clears the mist from my tear-blinded eyes,
It is there, still waiting to bless.
In an hour of doubt and distress,
When Faith clears the mist from my tear-blinded eyes,
It is there, still waiting to bless.
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