1 O where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And demons from their victims flee,
The dead their slumbers break;
The palsied rise in freedom strong,
The dumb men talk and sing,
And from blind eyes, benighted long
Bright beams of morning spring?
2 O where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And piercing words of liberty
The deaf ears open shake;
And mildest words arrest the haste
Of fever's deadly fire,
And strong ones heal the weak who waste
Their life in sad desire?
3 O where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And dark waves rolling heavily
A glassy smoothness take;
And lepers, whose own flesh has been
A solitary grave,
See with amaze that they are clean
And cry "'Tis He can save?"
4 O where is He that trod the sea?
'Tis only He can save;
To thousands hungering wearily
A wondrous meal He gave;
Full soon, celestially fed,
Their rustic fare they take;
'twas springtide when He blest the bread,
And harvest when He brake.
4 O where is He that trod the sea?
My soul, the Lord is here;
Let all thy fears be hushed in thee;
To leap, to look, to hear
Be thine: thy needs He'll satisfy.
Art thou diseased or dumb,
Or dost thou in thy hunger cry?
"I come," saith Christ, "I come."
Amen.
The Hymnal: Published by the authority of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A., 1895
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