Scripture Verse

Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Proverbs 3:5

Introduction

Words: Phi­lip P. Bliss, The Charm 1871, num­ber 82.

Music: Sail­ing Phi­lip P. Bliss, 1871 (🔊 pdf nwc).

portrait
Philip Bliss (1838–1876)

Background

Some ships cross the ocean with clear skies, smooth seas and fair winds, and come in­to port with stream­ers fly­ing and bands of mu­sic mak­ing ju­bi­lee. Oth­ers come in storms, with the sky black as night, the wind like a hur­ri­cane, and the sea like mount­ains—and they come in all bat­tered, yards gone, masts spli­ntered, hard­ly enough left to hang to­ge­ther.

But the dif­fer­ence amounts to no­thing. The on­ly im­port­ant thing from first to last is, not what the log says about storm or calm, but that they all steer close to the com­pass, and do their best to make har­bor. [If] they on­ly get there safe­ly, what ha­ppened to them by the way is of no ac­count.

So [it is with] God’s child­ren. There may, there will be, vast va­ri­ety of ex­per­ience: to some pros­pe­ri­ty, suc­cess, joy—to oth­ers, ad­ver­si­ty, de­feat, grief. But what may be your lot or mine, is of no con­se­quence.

The one and on­ly thing of mo­ment is, that we stick close to our chart and push for port with all our might. [If] we gain that, the plea­sures or per­ils of the way do not mat­ter.

Extract from a ser­mon preached by Dr. E. P. Good­win, First Con­gre­ga­tion­al Church, Chicago.

Philip Bliss, The Charm: A Col­lect­ion of Sun­day School Mu­sic (Chi­ca­go, Illinois: Root & Ca­dy, 1871)

Lyrics

Sailor, though the dark­ness ga­thers,
Though the cold waves surge and moan,
Trust thy bark to God’s great mer­cy,
Falter not; sail on, sail on.

Refrain

Sailing in­to port, what mat­ter,
Drooping sail or shat­tered mast?
Glory, glo­ry fills the har­bor,
There we’ll an­chor safe at last.

Sailor, though with stream­ers fly­ing,
Yonder proud ship mounts the foam,
And with bands of mu­sic play­ing,
Gains the port and wel­come home.

Refrain

Sailor, though the light­ning flash­es,
Though thy sails be rent and torn,
Peace shall come on hope’s bright pin­ions,
And de­li­ver­ance with the morn.

Refrain