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04c. 1808 AD
O God! have mercy in this dreadful hour On the poor mariner! in comfort here Safe shelter’d as I am, I almost fear The blast that rages with resistless power. What were it now to toss upon the waves— The madden’d waves, and know no succour near; The howling of the storm alone to hear, And the wild sea that to the tempest raves; To gaze amid the horrors of the night, And only see the billows’ gleaming light; And in the dread of death to think of her Who, as she listens sleepless to the gale, Puts up a silent prayer and waxes pale? O God! have mercy on the mariner!
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