O troubled sea of Galilee,
                                        
                                        When run thy billows high,
                                        
                                        And through thy dreaded storms I see
                                        
                                        That pain and death are nigh;
                                        
                                        O when thy threatening clouds appear
                                        
                                        And floods impending chill,
                                        
                                        Through surge and tempest may I hear
                                        
                                        A voice say, “Peace, be still.”