Would you be­hold the works of God,
His won­ders in the world abroad,
Go with the ma­rin­ers, and trace
The unk­nown re­gions of the seas.

They leave their na­tive shores be­hind,
And seize the fa­vor of the wind;
Till God com­mand, and tem­pests rise
That heave the ocean to the skies.

Now to the heav’ns they mount amain,
Now sink to dread­ful deeps again;
What strange af­frights young sail­ors feel,
And like a stag­ger­ing drunk­ard reel!

When land is far, and death is nigh,
Lost to all hope, to God they cry:
His mer­cy hears the loud ad­dress,
And sends sal­va­tion in dis­tress.

He bids the winds their wrath as­suage,
The fu­ri­ous waves forget their rage;
’Tis calm, and sail­ors smile to see
The ha­ven where they wished to be.

O may the sons of men re­cord
The won­drous good­ness of the Lord!
Let them their pri­vate of­fer­ings bring
And in the church His glo­ry sing.