Mark! when tempestuous winds arise,
The wild confusion and uproar;
All ocean mixing with the skies,
And wrecks are dash’d upon the shore.

Not less confusion racks the mind,
By its own fierce ideas tots;
Calm reason is to rage resign’d,
And in the whirl of passion lost.

O self-tormenting child of pride,
Anger, bred up in hate and strife!
Ten thousand ill, by thee supply’d,
Mingle the cup of bitter life.

Happy the meek, whose gentle breast,
Clear as the summer’s ev’ning ray,
Calm as the regions of the blest,
Enjoys on earth celestial day!

No friendships broke their bosoms sting,
No jars their peaceful tent invade;
Secure beneath th’ almighty wing,
And foes to none, of none afraid.

Spirit of grace, all meek and mild!
Inspire our hearts, our souls possess;
Repel each passion rude and wild,
And bless us as we aim to bless.