On Thee my captiv'd soul did call,
Thou, Who art present ev'rywhere,
From the dark entrails of the whale,
Didst thy entombed servant hear.
Thy Hand into the surges threw,
The sea's black arms forthwith unfold,
Down to the horrid bottom drew,
And all her waves upon me roll'd.
Then said my soul: For ever I
Am banish'd from Thy glorious sight;
And yet Thy temple with the eye
Of faith review'd in that blind night.
The floods my soul involv'd below,
The swallowing deeps besieg'd me round,
And weeds, which in the bottom grow,
My head with funeral dresses bound.
I to the roots of mountains div'd,
Whom bars of broken rocks restrain;
Yet from that tomb of death reviv'd,
And rais'd to see the sun again.
I, when my soul began to faint,
My vows and pray'rs to Thee preferr'd;
The Lord my passionate complaint,
Ev'n from His holy temple, heard.
Those who affect false vanities,
The mercy of their God betray;
But I my thanks will sacrifice,
And vows to my Redeemer pay.