Saviour, I gaze on Thee,
Dying on Calvary,
Bearing my woe;
Suffering to set me free,
Smitten to ransom me,
O Lord, my God, to Thee,
All, all I owe! '

Though angry billows roll,
Darkening upon my soul,
Safe on Thy breast;
Since, Lord, Thou lovest me,
Fierce though the tempest be,
Cleaving, by faith, to Thee,
In Thee I rest.

Carla C. Atwood