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The Traveller

How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
  How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,
  Their help, Omnipotence.

In foreign realms, and lands remote, Supported by Thy care, Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt, And breathed in tainted air.

Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil, Made every region please; The hoary Alpine hills it warm'd, And smoothed the Tyrrhene seas.

Think, O my soul, devoutly think, How, with affrighted eyes, Thou saw'st the wide-extended deep In all its horrors rise.

Confusion dwelt in every face, And fear in every heart; When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs, O'ercame the pilot's art.

Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord, Thy mercy set me free; Whilst, in the confidence of prayer, My soul took hold on Thee.

For though in dreadful whirls we hung High on the broken wave, I knew Thou wert not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save.

--The storm was laid; the winds retired, Obedient to Thy will; The sea that roar'd at Thy command, At Thy command was still.

_--J. Addison_

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