O troubled sea of Galilee,
When run thy billows high,
And through thy dreaded storms I see
That pain and death are nigh;
O when thy threatening clouds appear
And floods impending chill,
Through surge and tempest may I hear
A voice say, “Peace, be still.”
O storied sea of Galilee,
Through all the changing years,
Thy stress is type of storms to be
And sign of rising fears;
Thy tempests drive our hopes across
The floods of human ill;
The conquest o’er all pain and loss
Is in thy “Peace, be still.”
Thou vaster sea than Galilee,
Where may I look for peace?
What wondrous power commanding thee
Can cause thy winds to cease?
Praise God! that o’er all surging tides
There broods His sovereign will;
That in each inmost soul abides
His conquering “Peace, be still.”