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Hymnals of the Stone-Campbell Movement

Enos E. Dowling Hymnal Collection

Hymn: Through tribulations deep the way to glory lies (FL)

Hymnal: A Selection of Christian Hymns

Date: 1818

Compiler: Rice Haggard

Publisher/Printer: John Norvell

First Line: Through tribulations deep the way to glory lies

Topic: <no topic given>

Writer: <no first name given> <no last name given>

Composer:

Meter:

Tune:

Hymn Number: 354

Page Number: 348, click to see hymnal pages

Lyics

Through tribulations deep the way to glory lies,

This stormy course I'd keep on the tempestuous seas;

By winds and waves I'm tost and driven,

Freighted with Grace, and bound for heaven.



Sometimes temptations blow a dreadful hurricane,

And high the waters flow, and o'er the side break in;

But still my little ship outbraves

The blustering winds and tow'ring waves.



When I in my distress my anchor, hope, can cast

Within the promises, it holds my vessel fast:

Safely she then at anchor rides,

'Midst stormy blasts and swelling tides.



If a dead calm ensues, and heaven no breezes give,

The oar of prayer I'd use, and tug and toil, and strive;

Thro' storms and calms for many days,

I make but very little ways.



But when a heavenly breeze springs up and fills my sail,

My vessel goes with ease before the pleasant gale,

And runs as much an hour or more,

As in a month or two before.



Hid by the clouds from sight, the sun doth not appear;

Nor can I in the night, behold the moon or stars.

Sometimes for days, or weeks or more,

I cannot see the sky or shore.



As at the time of noon my quadrant, faith, I take,

To view my Christ, my sun, if he the coulds should break;

I'm happy when his face I see,

I know then where abouts I be.



My Bible is my chart; by it the seas I know;

I cannot with it part -- it rocks and sands doth show;

It is my chart and compass too,

Whose needle points forever true.



I'd keep aloof from pride, the rocks I'd shun with care,

I'd studiously avoid the whirlpool of despair;

Presumption's quicksands too I'd shun,

Near them I do not choose to run.



When through a strait I go, or near some Island drove,

The plummet faith I'd throw, and thus my safety prove;

My conscience is the line which I

Fathom the depth of water by.



My vessel would be lost in spite of all my care,

But that teh Holy Ghost himself vouch safes to steer;

And thro' my voyage he always will

Be my dear faithful steersman still.



And e'er I reach the coast, a gulph I must passs through,

Which fatal proves to most, for all the passage go;

But all death's waves can't me o'er whelm,

If God himself is at the helm.



When through this gulph I get, tho' rough it is but short,

The pilot angels meet to bring me into port,

And when I land on that blest shore,

I shall be safe forever more.