The Ga­li­lean fish­ers toil
All night, and no­thing take;
But Je­sus comes–a won­drous spoil
Is lift­ed from the lake.

Lord, when our la­bors are in vain,
And vain the help of men,
When fruit­less is our care and pain,
Come bless­èd Je­su, then!

The night is dark, the surg­es fill
The bark, the wild winds roar;
But Je­sus comes, and all is still—
The ship is at the shore.

O Lord, when storms around us howl,
And all is dark and drear,
In all the tem­pests of the soul,
O bless­èd Je­su, hear!

A frail one, thrice de­ny­ing Thee,
Saw mer­cy in Thine eyes;
The pe­ni­tent up­on the tree
Was borne to pa­ra­dise.

In hours of sin and deep dis­tress,
O show us, Lord, Thy face;
In pe­ni­ten­tial lone­li­ness,
O give us, Je­su, grace!

The faith­ful few re­tire in fear
Unto the up­per room;
But suddenly, with joyful cheer,
They see their Mas­ter come.

Lord, come to us, unloose our bands,
And bid our terrors cease,
Lift over us Thy bless­èd hands,
Speak, holy Je­su, peace.

In days when faith will scarce be found,
And wolves be in the fold,
When sin and sor­row will abound,
And cha­ri­ty wax cold,

Then hear Thy saints, who to Thee pray
To bring them to their home;
Hear, when the Bride and Spir­it say,
Come, bless­èd Je­su, come!