I wake each day joined to a vessel seeking its own course. The captain reels and staggers. He shakes his fist and shouts into the wind, challenging the gods. Providence lends us favorable conditions, and he boasts great swelling vanities in proportion to the towering waves which had threatened to forever bury us in the depths.
It is your hand LORD that steadies the helm. You strengthen our hearts and add to our days. It is your face that smiles upon us, and in the thick darkness of the storm your countenance hides. You draw some safely into harbor. Others you dash in pieces against the cliffs, scarcely saving us alive. Both will praise you. Your mercy accomplishes this, your zeal for your name, that our trust and fear would not fall upon the wind and waves, lest we in our foolish pride should think to have ruled over them. For your own sake you do this. Your glory you will not give to another.
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