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1THE winds were howling o'er the deep, Each wave a watery hill, The Saviour wakened from his sleep, He spake, and all was still. 2The madman in a tomb had made His mansion of despair; Woe to the traveller who strayed With heedless footsteps there! 3He met that glance so thrilling sweet. He heard those accents mild, And, melting at Messiah's feet, Wept like a weaned child. 4O madder than the raving man! O deafer than the sea! How long the time since Christ began To call in vain on me 5He called me when my thoughtless prime Was early ripe to ill; I passed from folly on to crime, And yet he called me still. 6He called me in the time of dread When death was full in view, I trembled on my feverish bed, And rose to sin anew. 7Yet could I hear him once again, As I have heard of old, Methinks he should not call in vain His wanderer to the fold. 8O thou that every thought canst know, And answer every prayer; O give me sickness, want, or woe, But snatch me from despair! 9My struggling will by grace control, Renew my broken vow! That blessed light breaks on my soul O God! I hear thee now.

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