Our sins, alas, how strong they be!
And like a violent sea,
They break our duty, Lord, to thee,
And hurry us away.
The waves of trouble, how they rise!
How loud the tempests roar!
But death shall land our weary souls
Safe on the heav'nly shore.
There, to fulfil his sweet commands,
Our speedy feet shall move
No sin shall clog our winged zeal,
Or cool our burning love.
There shall we sit, and sing, and tell
The wonders of his grace,
Till heav'nly raptures fire our hearts,
And smile in every face.
For ever his dear sacred name
Shall dwell upon our tongue,
And Jesus and salvation be
The close of every song.