My Pilot is Jesus;
Where many mansions will be found,
My Pilot is Jesus.
The old ship Zion is my boat,
My Pilot is Jesus;
In ev’ry storm she’ll safely float,
My Pilot is Jesus.
No hiding rock or treach’rous shoal,
My Pilot is Jesus;
Can wreck me ere I reach my goal,
My Pilot is Jesus.
He calms the raging winds at will,
My Pilot is Jesus;
He speaks, and lashing waves are still,
My Pilot is Jesus.
Chorus
My Pilot is Jesus,
My Pilot is Jesus;
Oh, what care I tho’ waves roll high;
My Pilot is Jesus.
French E. Oliver
O worship the King all glorious above,
And gratefully sing His wonderful love;
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of days,
Pavilion’d in splendor, and girded with praise.
O tell of His might, and sing of His grace,
Whose robe is the light, whose canopy space;
His chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form,
And dark is His path on the wings of the storm.
Thy bountiful care what tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air, it shines in the light;
It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,
And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.
Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
In Thee do we trust, nor find Thee to fail;
Thy mercies, how tender! How firm to the end,
Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend.
Robert Grant
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