From the Gadsby Hymnal

Jesus, at thy command

I launch into the deep;

And leave my native land,

Where sin lulls all asleep;

For thee I would the world resign.

And sail to heaven with thee and thine.

Thou art my Pilot wise;

My compass is thy word;

My soul each storm defies,

While I have such a Lord;

I trust thy faithfulness and power,

To save me in the trying hour.

Though rocks and quicksands deep

Through all my passage lie;

Yet Christ shall safely keep,

And guide me with his eye;

My anchor, hope, shall firm abide,

And I each boisterous storm outride.

By faith I see the land - 

The port of endless rest;

My soul, thy sails expand,

And fly to Jesus' breast!

O may I reach the heavenly shore

Where winds and waves distress no more.

Whene'er becalmed I lie,

And storms forbear to toss;

Be thou, dear Lord, still nigh,

Lest should I suffer loss;

For more the treacherous calm I dread,

Than tempests bursting o'er my head.

Come, Holy Ghost, and blow

A prosperous gale of grace;

Waft me from all below

To heaven, my destined place.

Then, in full sail, my port I'll find,

And leave the world and sin behind.

Richard De Courcy (1743-1803)