O where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And demons from their victims flee,
The dead their slumbers break;
The palsied rise in freedom strong,
The dumb men talk and sing,
And from blind eyes, benighted long
Bright beams of morning spring?
The Lord is rich and merciful,
The Lord is very kind;
O come to Him, come now to Him,
With a believing mind:
His comforts they shall strengthen thee,
Like flowing waters cool;
And He shall for thy spirit be
A fountain ever full.